


Second Star to the Right

by TheSolarSurfer



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairies, Fantasy, Magic-Users, Mermaids, Neverland, Pirates, The Jolly Roger, Treasure Island
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2860412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSolarSurfer/pseuds/TheSolarSurfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A family is torn apart by a dark secret they must keep from the world. A girl with the desire for truth and finally earning her mother's favor will do anything it takes to rescue her brother, who's been taken to Neverland. But this isn't just about Magic - it's getting her family to admit its real. Peter Pan has his own interests with the family, and he's not about to let them go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Relationships and most of the canon characters don't come in until later. No Love at First Sight, plenty of banter, lots of danger and mystery ahead.

**Chapter One**

* * *

* * *

 

_"I believe.”_  
  
Two simple words. Two simple words and a faraway wish. That was all it took for the glowing-eyed specter to fly through the window and gaze upon the two children sitting on their beds, frozen in fear. The shadow looked from the boy to the girl, wondering who it should take.  
  
The boy, older of the two, was also closer to the window. He gasped, blue eyes wide as the shadow took him by the arm and lifted him in the air. He tried to pull away but the shadow was by far the stronger one. Feet waggling over the carpet, he cried out as the Shadow pulled him out the window.  
  
His sister raced to the window, trying to grab her brother before he got too far out of reach. She screamed just as his hand slipped from her grasp. “Matty! Matty!”  
  
But he was gone.

*******

Mathias returned three days later. By then, his disappearance had reached international papers.

  
And why not? When the beloved, blue-eyed and blond-haired firstborn of Hollywood’s star actress suddenly vanishes in the middle of the night, people notice. The claims of his four-year-old sister, the only witness to the crime, told of a “Shadow Man” coming in and flying away with her brother...well, they did little to ease the public of the image of some monster who snatched innocent children from their beds. Everyone was up in arms, determined to find this kidnapper, this man so cruel he could not even be considered human, who would attempt such a daring act in front of the boy’s impressionable younger sister, who was left traumatized.  
  
But that was the problem. No one believed that it was an actual shadow that flew in through the window, that he was see-through with glowing gold eyes. Investigators thought she was merely confused, that her little mind was trying to rationalize what she saw and protect her own innocence from the truth. And no matter how much she stuck to this story, no one was convinced; in fact, it was recommended that she should see a child therapist.  
  
When Matthias returned on the third night, seemingly of his own accord (but his sister had witnessed the Shadow bringing him in back through the window), everyone expected answers. Who took him? Where did he go? Why was he covered in dirt and had scratches all over his face? Who was this so-called Shadow Man? Was he real?  
  
Matthias was accompanied by his mother and sister to the interview. The woman with the blue dress, a famous news reporter, talked with a sharp and loud voice to the camera, but changed to something soft and sweet and condescending to the eight-year-old boy in the chair. She peppered him with questions, mostly about how he was feeling during the various hours of his experience missing. Was he ever scared, afraid, etc?  
  
Then came the all important question, the one his sister (and the millions watching the live feed) was waiting for: “Who came through that window, Matthias? Was it a man? Or was it...something else?”  
  
The woman in the blue dress spoke in a low, dramatic voice, as if she were in one of their mother’s movies. Matthias just looked at her blankly before glancing up at his mother, apparently hesitating with his answer. She nodded once and the boy looked back at the reporter and said, “No. It was just a man, he climbed through the window...”  
  
“LIAR!” his sister shouted from across their mother’s legs on the other side of the couch. The girl jabbed a little chubby finger at him. “You’re lying! Liar, liar, pants on fire!”  
  
"Mallory, be quiet!" her mother chastised, hissing at the girl with a furious scowl. "And sit down!"  
  
"But he's lying, Mommy!" the girl cried up at the woman, tears filling the little girl's lies. Why didn't her own mother believe her? She was telling the truth, like she was taught to! "I was there, I saw it! He's lying!"  
  
"No, I'm not!" Matthias shot back, bottom lip trembling. He didn't want to make a scene in front of these grown-ups - Mommy would yell at him afterwards. "I'm not a liar!"  
  
"Yes you are!"  
  
"No I'm not!”  
  
The interview went downhill from there. The reporter tried to laugh it off as silly sibling rivalry, but it was clear that no amount of rationalizing was going to help. Matthias started to cry at the accusations and his sister cried along with him and there was nothing to console either of them in time to save the show. The family had to leave early and a heavily edited version of the interview was given to the public, while the extended version was leaked online. The children were paparazzi fodder for weeks afterwards.  
  
But Matthias Farthing and his family kept a very dark secret, a secret his mother made sure he’d never tell. A secret so dangerous that it was better for the world to think that little girl was crazy and sick rather than risk the truth getting free  
  
Because Magic was real. And it was alive within the Farthing family, no matter how hard they pretended to be normal. Or, at least, the mother and son had to be. As it turned out, the crazy little sister had no Magic. She was born normal.  
  
A few years later, Mallory Farthing truly believed that the rumors and the nightmares would finally be over, that by the time she became an adult, no one would remember her to be crazy. Her life was finally settling in, she could live out her life in peace, in the shadows of her mother and older brother’s careers.  
  
Of course, little did she know, the adventure had barely even started.  
  
Because thirteen years later, Matthias would disappear again. And this time, she followed him.

   


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

* * *

* * *

 

Being famous and having secret magical powers is not the most favorable combination to live with.

Not that Mallory would know. Mallory didn’t have powers. But the rest of her family did, and it was her job to set an example for the rest of them to follow. Be normal. Act normal. Smile at the cameras like you had nothing to hide but your home address, phone number, and personal emails. Don’t answer the questions they shout at you, just look at the woman Mother’s agent said to talk to and speak into the microphone. A minute at most, that’s all it’ll take before you have to keep moving. Wash, rinse, repeat. In an hour you get to sit down and watch the awards play out, bored out of your mind.

Mallory narrated inside her head as her family crossed the red carpet. She waved at the cameras, gave them a manufactured smile (those teeth cleaning strips did wonders, but lately she couldn’t taste as much as she used to) and went on her way. She didn’t have to worry about costume catastrophes or tripping in heels that were the length of her hand...No, this was a casual event. Mallory could wear her flat shoes and a loose blouse, nothing tight or obstructive or liable to nip-slips.

She was last in line to her mother and brother ahead and she took her time with the interviews, denying rumors and letting out a few production secrets the public wasn’t allowed to know before Shari realized what she was doing and yanked the girl away from the demanding and disappointed paparazzi.

“What did I tell you about leaking information to the public?” Shari demanded as she frog-marched the girl inside the grandiose building. Marble columns, fifty foot windows, crystal chandeliers, the whole shebang. “That is breaking your confidentiality agreement with the company! You could get your mother in trouble!”

“Heaven forbid,” Mallory said under her breath as they were let through a security gate. One of the guards gave her a passing smile. Oh, he knew.

Shari, her mother’s PR agent, had the proverbial leash around Mallory’s neck. She was the unofficial babysitter (and a bad one, too) for the children of a famous actress. Shari navigated the seat of tables and seats in the grand hall towards her mother and brother, all ready sitting down. The stage ahead was dark – Mallory had plenty of time, she didn’t know why Shari was so neurotic with her tardiness.

Her mother didn’t even acknowledge Mallory when she sat down on her right. Matthias was on her other side, picking at the floral centerpiece with apparent boredom. Only their mother looked attentive, facing the stage with an indiscernible expression. Mallory could never tell what her mother was really thinking. She tried to tell herself she didn’t really care, but that would be an awful lie.

No one said anything to her. Mallory was fine with that. She played on her phone, pretending to look interested as the lights dimmed and the music started, but ten minutes in she was already getting tired. She just wanted to go home and read. She wanted to bring one of the new ones with her, but Sheri wouldn’t allow it – if anyone saw the book Mallory carried, they would believe it to be product placement, that someone paid her to carry it around and pretend to read it. While Mallory personally didn’t care _what_ the media really thought because the public themselves were usually decent people (usually), Sheri kind of had a point. But now she just wished she stayed home. She could’ve just watched this on TV and the experience wouldn’t have been any better.

Her mother had been nominated for an award. The woman had starred in one of those films about a woman in the Revolutionary War. The True Story of Molly Pitcher. A box office hit. Critics praised it. Audiences loved it. Mallory crossed her fingers that it wouldn’t be her mother, that for the first time maybe these award shows could surprise her.

“And the award for Best Actress in Motion Picture Drama goes to...!” the woman said on stage, fiddling with the flap on the letter. Mallory recognized her from the _Batman_ movies. “Helena Farthing!”

The room was filled with the sound of clapping as her mother gave the tiniest of smiles and stood up. Of course, her mother knew this would happen; she didn’t even have to act surprised. As Mallory watched her go up on stage, she received a nudge in the side and Sheri hissing in her ear, “Clap! The cameras are on you!”

Mallory rolled her eyes and started half-heartedly putting her hands together. Why should she clap? She wasn’t proud of her mother. She wasn’t glad she won the award. Pretending to be happy just felt like another lie.

After that, the show couldn’t end fast enough. By the time the awards had all been given out and everyone was filing out of the room, exchanging hugs and kisses as they went, Mallory was one of the first people out the door. She was only briefly halted by some “friends” of her mother, sharing the congratulations with the child of the famous actress. Then again on the red carpet, heading towards the long line of limos, she was caught by a rogue group of photographers who wanted her to take her shirt off. Mallory kicked them away and ducked inside the door as it was opened by the chauffeur.

Mallory waited inside the car for her family. That took another thirty minutes as the red carpet was lit up once more with celebrities and interviewers. Mallory kind of just wanted the chauffeur to drive off without them, that they could probably just buy another limo from someone else, but Sheri would probably kill her.

When Matthias finally slid into the seat opposite hers, he cast her a smirk and said, “Well, don’t look _too_ happy. There’s still the after party to go to.”

Mallory groaned, throwing her head back against the seat. “Oh, come on, seriously?”

“We always have one!” Matthias protested, apparently not understanding why she was so against the idea. “And you always hide in your room, so what’s the big deal?”

He had a point, but that didn’t change the fact that Mallory hated after parties. It was like the universe’s way of wheedling out more agony from her. It’s reminder to her that no matter what she did, Mallory could not escape her mother’s influence.

“Never mind,” Mallory muttered, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms as their mother finally entered the car and tapped the glass window to the chauffeur and let him know that now was the time to leave. “Just keep it downstairs, all right?”

“Pfft, whatever,” came Matthias’ reply, which pretty much meant that her request would go completely ignored.

Her mother glanced at Mallory but her expression remained unchanged: blank, cold, indiscernible – the look she always had when the woman wasn’t acting. Mallory wondered if she should bring up the concern with her mother, but it was likely that her attitude would roll in favor of Matthias, as it always did. She let Mallory’s brother do what he pleased, when he pleased. This mostly involved parties and concerts and clubs, because Matthias didn’t really do much else, but ever since he turned twenty one, the urge to go out and drink with his friends went up 500%. Not that their mother ever monitored his drinking before, Matthias was just happy he didn’t have to keep buying new fake IDs anymore. They were incredibly expensive and took a huge chunk out of his ‘allowance’.

Matthias didn’t work. Neither did Mallory. They had credit cards for their mother’s account, the only person in their family that worked. Being as successful as she was, Helena Farthing had plenty of money to go around. Matthias could literally buy his own car if he wanted to, but it was only Sheri that could keep him from doing such stupid things. Could he even really drive? Mallory couldn’t remember. He got into so many accidents and tickets that it was hard to figure out what state his license was in at the moment.

And completely ignored it did, as a few hours later Mallory found herself locked in her own room because she was worried someone might open it by accident and decide her bed was an excellent place to start making out. Not even a bathroom break could be risked – more than once has Mallory came back to find a Do Not Disturb sign on her own bedroom door, with the sound of strangers knocking down her trophy shelf coming through the wood.

So even though Mallory had to go really bad, she decided to wait it out. She had done it before, she could do it again. Because the pounding bass was rocking her floor, Mallory tried to listen to her own music at full blast in her headphones. It worked for the most part, but the vibrations from her brother’s giant subwoofers were starting to make her feel sick.

Listening and reading to music at the same time. Her head could acknowledge the lyrics and read the words at the same time without getting confused as to what she should be focusing on. So Mallory just lied on her bed and played on her laptop, trying to pass the time as she went over her math homework. It wasn’t due in several days, but because Mallory had nothing else to do, what with the entire house under siege, she figured it was best just to get it over now.

What her mother could possibly be doing at this moment, Mallory had no idea. The image of her mother dancing to the rap music made Mallory laugh so hard she cried. What face would her mother be making at the moment, listening to that music Matthias listened to? Would she be bobbing her head, tapping her foot to the beat? No, that woman’s actions were too carefully controlled, too self-aware for her to ever do something as silly as that.

But even she allowed Mallory to do the things she liked, so perhaps the woman was completely terrible.

Mallory had her license. She could drive away at any moment, if she so chose. But the depressing thought came when she realized that she _had_ no place to go to, no safe haven to hide. No family (out of state). No real friends because she didn’t go to public school (that would make it too easy for the paparazzi to get her). She could always call Cecily – the daughter of one of Helena Farthing’s friends, so Mallory’s friends by default. But Cecily was a lot like Matthias in that she loved to party and drink and talk about things Mallory didn’t like talking about: celebrities, boyfriends, and the plan to write songs and become famous in her own right. Cecily hadn’t ever actually _written_ a song, mostly because she was too hung over to remember what she did in the morning.

But Mallory was desperate for someone to talk to, so she called Cecily. Surprise, surprise, Cecily was at a party; if the loud noise in the background was any indication. Cecily was yelling into her phone, “HEY, GIRL! WHAT’S UP?”

Mallory had to shout back just to be heard. “I’m fine! Just bored, you know?”

“OH, I KNOW!” Cecily shouted back. The receiver crackled with her voice. “You should do what I do, and get in on the party scene! It’s totally hot right now!”

“No, thanks,” Mallory replied. There was a knock on her door. Mallory decided to get up and check, figuring whoever was behind it actually wanted to see her if they were being so polite. “Where are you right now?”

Just as she opened the door, Cecily cried, “I’m right here!” and burst into her room, catching Mallory in a big hug.

“Ah!” Mallory, surprised, stumbled back and lost her balance. They fell against the bed, Cecily caught up in a drunken fit of laughter. Her wild, curly blond hair was all over the place. She was covered in glitter and her dress was all askew. Mallory managed to kick the door closed before anyone else could come inside. “God, you scared me!”

Cecily giggled and waved the phone in her hand. “Surprise! Bet you didn’t think I was actually here, did you?”

“No,” Mallory admitted, even though now that she thought about it, the music coming through her phone _had_ sounded very familiar. “Please tell me you’re not drunk.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be as much fun if I wasn’t!” Cecily said. She was still slumped on the floor, giving Mallory a big grin. “Besides, I had to make sure my best friend was doing all right! It’s not healthy to live as a hermit in your own house, you know. You’ve got to have a social life.”

“You fill up my quota of social life, all on your own,” Mallory replied, getting up to lock the door. Just in time, too, because someone had started banging against it. Probably people making out, or getting in a fight. Neither did she want in her room. “Really, you’re all I can take as far as this is concerned. My head would explode otherwise.”

“Aw, you’re such a sweetie pie!” Cecily said, finally managing to pick herself up. She was wobbly on her high heels, straps all loose and her feet almost hanging out of them. Mallory had to catch her before she fell. Cecily just rested her head on Mallory’s shoulder and patted the girl’s back. “You are my rock, Mal. No one knows me the way you do.”

“That’s the alcohol talking,” Mallory replied, trying not to feel too guilty as she set Cecily safely down on the bed. Mallory didn’t like Cecily as much as Cecily liked her. Mallory certainly wouldn’t consider Cecily a best friend, even if she was the only one Mallory had. For the longest time, Mallory thought of their experience as putting up with Cecily. She didn’t really think Cecily was capable of a deep, meaningful relationship with anyone.

“No, I’m being serious!” The girl giggled and flopped onto her back, looking up at the ceiling, painted dark blue with glow-in-the-dark stars. “Oooh, pretty! But, Mal, really, you’re my best friend. You’re, like, my permanent designated driver – for life! I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

“Still drunk,” Mallory replied, going around the bed and opening the window to let in some fresh air. Could she really think of Cecily as her best friend?

“Get your butt over here, girl,” Cecily ordered, pointing down at the bed and not allowing for any objection. Mallory just rolled her eyes and obliged. “You know what they say about alcohol. It brings the best out.”

“I think you mean the truth,” Mallory said, helping Cecily out of her shoes before she could hurt herself again. The things had six inch heels and looked like torture devices. How could Cecily even _stand_ them? She’d be on her toes the entire time. “And that’s just an urban legend. Alcohol just takes away your inhibitions, makes you unafraid of societal consequences.”

“You’ve been reading Wikipedia again!” Cecily accused. “You don’t trust alcohol but you trust that site? Hypocrite!”

“Guilty as charged,” Mallory wasn’t particularly afraid of Cecily’s wrath. The girl was far too-laid back, too happy-go-lucky to truly get angry and do something about it. Cecily had never thrown a punch in her life. For that matter, neither had Mallory. “And yet you still trust me.”

“That I do,” Cecily nodded sagely, adjusting the neckline of her dress before it could reveal anything scandalous. “I can trust you with my deepest, darkest secrets.”

 _But you can never know mine_. Mallory bit her lip and remained silent. As funny as Cecily was, she had the incredible ability of making Mallory feel incredibly guilty. But she could never tell Cecily the truth about her family, even if it didn’t apply to Mallory herself. All the same, she had to carry the same burden as her brother and mother. “That’s nice.”

“Would you?” Cecily asked.

“Would I what?” Mallory pretended not to know what she was talking about.

“Would you trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets?” Cecily got up on her elbows and fixed Mallory with a long stare.

“Of course I’d tell you,” Mallory replied, forcing a smile.

Cecily beamed at her in return, then lunged forward and enveloped Mallory in another big hug. “Aw, you’re the best! I can’t say that about everyone, you know. Jordan and Kaley are such bee-yotches, you know?”

“Uh, sure,” Mallory didn’t really talk to Jordan or Kaley because they were a lot like Cecily, but only if you left out all the good parts and made the bad parts worse. They were snide and cruel and spread rumors about people they didn’t like. Mallory did her best to avoid them at all costs. Were they downstairs right now? She hoped not. “Can’t trust a word they say.”

“That’s right!” Cecily finally let go, allowing more room in Mallory’s ribcage to breathe. “I believe they’d be totally better people if they knew you like I did!”

Something flashed in the corner of her eye. Mallory looked up, surprised, at her window. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Cecily looked in the same direction, frowning curiously at the window. “Did you see something?”

“I think so,” Mallory grew concerned. Was there someone scaling the walls now? It happened before. She got up and approached the window, pushing aside the curtains. She peeked her head out, checking above and below for anyone that might be climbing the vines. No one. Frowning to herself, Mallory pulled her head back in and glanced at Cecily. “There’s nothing. Must just be my imagination.”

But Mallory swore she saw something before. She wasn’t going to tell Cecily, because she wouldn’t believe it. Not without proof. What was it that she saw? It had been a flicker of movement, dark and fast, like a shadow. Maybe people on the roof.

“Weird,” Cecily snorted, casting Mallory a wry look. “Hey, maybe you’re going crazy again.”

“Please, let’s not,” Mallory said before Cecily could talk about the past. Mallory had tried her hardest to forget, to put it behind her. She didn’t need it to be resurfaced by a drunk teenager who didn’t really understand what had happened. “I really think you should be going home. You are way too drunk to be going home.”

“Aw, noooo!” Cecily whined, flopping on her bed as though she were going to make Mallory physically drag her out of the room. “I don’t want to go home. There’s just going to be another party there, and then I’ll get even _more_ drunk. Can I stay here, with you, Mal?”

“No,” Mallory replied, keeping her tone short.

“Plllleeeeaaaassseee?” Cecily said, making big puppy-dog eyes at her, pouting her lips and doing her best impression of a drunken, sparkly bloodhound.

“Oh, fine!” Mallory threw her hands up in the air, giving in to the cutesy look. Cecily was a professional. “But you’re staying in here, away from the alcohol. No more drinking!”

“Scout’s honor!” Cecily declared, holding up three fingers.

“You were never a Girl Scout,” Mallory frowned at her.  
  
Cecily gave her a cheeky grin. “I know. I hoped you wouldn’t remember.”

“Bed!” Mallory cried, helping Cecily up. She wasn’t sacrificing her own soft mattress for Cecily, but she had a couch in her room that the drunk girl could sleep on for the night. Mallory never had a sleepover before, never been to one, but she was pretty sure the normal ones didn’t turn out like this. “Come on, put the phone away! The faster you get to sleep, the faster you can get over your hangover.”

“Ugh, fine, _Mom_ ,” Cecily said in a mocking tone, rolling her eyes as she handed Mallory her phone. “God, you’re such a killjoy.”

“Uh-huh, and you’re not going to puke on my carpet,” Mallory replied, pocketing the phone and getting Cecily to lay down on the couch. She went to her closet and fetched a pillow and blanket, then helped the girl get tucked in. Cecily looked mighty smug about the whole matter.

“Wait!” she grabbed Mallory’s wrist before she could leave. “You have to read me a bedtime story!”

Mallory stared down at her. “You’re joking.”

“No! Come on, you already tucked me in like a baby, now I need a story to help me sleep!” Cecily said, completely serious. Mallory couldn’t believe she was being so passionate about the matter. Was she like this sober, too? “Please! You have so many books! At least one of them has to have fairy tales!”

She kind of had a point. But Mallory hadn’t read fairy tales since she was in elementary school (before she started getting tutors), and she wasn’t sure if she had even kept the books. But with three bookshelves in her room, Mallory was sure she could find something that could shut Cecily up. She would read _A Song of Ice and Fire_ if she absolutely had to.

It took her only two shelves to find an old book stuffed under some newer ones. Its binding was covered in dust, the pages old and somewhat rough from the inordinate amount of times Mallory read it when she was little. She blew off the dust, coughed, and brought it back to the couch where Cecily had settled herself in, crossing her arms behind her head and giving Mallory a self-satisfied smile. “Okay, I’m ready for the story.”

Mallory just shook her head and sat on the armrest of the couch, letting the book fall open in her lap. It went to a random page. “What one do you want to hear?”

“Not one about princesses, bleh,” Cecily made a face.

“But that’s, like, _all_ of them,” Mallory complained, closing her book in frustration.

“No, it’s not!” Cecily replied, scowling at her. “Come on, use your imagination! There has to be at least one story that doesn’t have knights, or princesses, or castles or anything like that. Those ones are so boring and clichéd. Come on, just look!”

“Ugh, fine,” Mallory reopened her book and scanned the index. _The Princess and the Pea_. Nope. _The Swan Princess_. No again. _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Rapunzel, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Snow Queen, Aladdin, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table..._ no, no, and no! It wasn’t until she neared the end of the list did she exclaim, “Oh! Here we go, Peter Pan! That doesn’t have princesses or knights or castles. How about that?”

“Go for it.”

“Alright then,” Mallory was relieved to find something that pleased Cecily. She turned to the page in the book and began to read. “Peter Pan. All this has happened before. And it will all happen again. But this time, it happened in London. It happened on a quiet street in Bloomsbury. That corner house at the end of the street, with its lights all ablaze, is the home of the Darling family, and Peter Pan chose this particular house, because there were people here who believed in him...”

There came a loud, grating sound that made Mallory jump and look around in surprise. But it was only Cecily, dead asleep and snoring like a lawn mower. Considering her job here done, Mallory snapped the book closed and tossed it back onto her shelf. The music had died down downstairs – the party-goers were leaving, or perhaps falling asleep in whatever available space they could find. Matthias would probably be passed out on the pool lawn chairs, surrounded by beer and pretty girls.

Mallory yawned so wide it cracked her jaw. She decided that perhaps now was a good time to sleep, maybe she would wake up in the morning and find everything clean and tidy, as if no one had been there. She flopped on her bed and fell asleep where she lied.  

But as soon as her eyes closed and dreams filled her head, the curtains to her open window rustled. Just a little rustle, like a soft breeze blowing in.

Then from the darkness a dark form with glowing eyes peered in. It glanced at the two sleeping girls, entirely uninterested, before gliding through the room and slipping out the crack under the door. Cecily stirred at the sound of the door rattling, but did not rise from her slumber.

And when the girls would wake again, it would be far too late.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

* * *

* * *

 

 

“Has anyone seen Matthias?”

That was the most often question asked the next morning. Mallory didn’t think much of it at first – after all, the mansion was big, the land expansive, and so many hungover bodies on the floor that he could’ve been any one of them.

It was Mallory’s job to make sure they got off her property. She called it her property because she felt responsible for taking care of it, although that job was technically the housekeeper and her team of maids and butlers, but all of _them_ had made themselves scarce during the party last night, and had yet to show their faces again.

She nudged bodies and shifted them aside once she knew they weren’t dead (an ambulance was rarely called, and this party was actually one of the less wild ones Matthias had this past year). She called the limo service, the taxi service, anyone awake and sober enough to drive to get these bozos off her lawn. She made a half-hearted search for her brother but was really more concerned about getting these people out of here.

It wasn’t until late afternoon, when the grounds were cleared, did Mallory start to get worried. Really worried. The police were called. Black and white cars appeared on their lawn, people started getting interviewed. Mallory waited by the pool – she was the first to be interviewed but since she wasn’t actually _at_ the party, she didn’t really know anything. It bothered her to no end to be the responsible one – but being one of the only people who _couldn’t_ help the police find her missing brother.

Cecily, having woke up at about noon and still a little hung-over, flopped down beside Mallory and let her feet hit the water. It splashed over them but Mallory didn’t even flinch. It was as if she were stuck in a state of shock. What had happened to Matthias?

“Hey, how are you doin’?” Cecily asked, starting to play with Mallory’s hair.

Cecily was actually the first person to ask Mallory that. During the interviews, Helena Farthing wouldn’t speak in front of her daughter so Mallory had been left to her own thoughts. So she gave a smile to Cecily and said, “I don’t know.”

“Well, at least you’re honest,” Cecily sighed, running a hand through her hair. It was naturally curly, but it looked especially disastrous that morning, with glitter, Silly String and the stench of alcohol wafting all around her. She started to braid bits of Mallory’s hair – her idea of therapy or stress relief in tense situations. “I don’t know why the cops even bother with interviews, everyone here was too drunk to remember anything. Hell, I can’t even figure out how I ended up on your couch last night. What even happened?”

“Nothing much,” Mallory wasn’t in the mood to recount her version of last night’s events. “I put you to bed last night, read you a bedtime story. You were _really_ out of it.”

Cecily threw her head back and laughed. Then she abruptly stopped and threw Mallory a sheepish look. “Ah, ha, I guess it’s not that funny, is it?”  
  
“It’s all right. This whole _day_ has been super weird...” Mallory was about to continue when she heard voices to her left. She turned and saw two girls standing about twenty feet away, in bright party dresses, whispering to each other and sneaking glances at her and Cecily.

“Oh, god,” Cecily looked over Mallory’s shoulder and made a face. “It’s Jordan and Kaley. I told you they were here last night. I bet they’re talking about us, right now.”

“Just ignore them,” Mallory replied, turning back to face the water. This was her solution to most bully behavior (it never got physical because no one wanted to be demonized by the media for attacking a defenseless child of a famous actress). But Mallory should have known that Jordan and Kaley were professionals, that they didn’t need to slap her to make Mallory feel like dirt. They could do it with words alone.

“What a freak _..._ ” one of them snickered. Mallory couldn’t tell _which_ one was Jordan or Kaley because they looked so much alike – hair dyed the same color blond, nose rings and matching purses – but one had on a pink dress, the other yellow. The one in the yellow dress continued to speak, “She’s not even sad that her brother is missing. She’s not doing anything to help, either.”  
  
Mallory wanted to get up and shout at them, that she had done more in one day than they ever did in year. But that would turn this whole thing into one big scene and Mallory didn’t want to become this side scandal to her brother’s disappearance.

“You know what? I bet she did this,” the one in the pink dress hissed behind a hand, yet still loud enough for Mallory to hear. “I mean, she’s already half-crazy, and last night was the perfect time to make Matty disappear without anyone noticing.”

“Oh-Em-Gee!” Yellow dress – who Mallory finally remembered to be Jordan – gasped, a hand flying to her mouth in mock horror. “You’re so right! Did you see the open window in his room? I bet she _pushed_ him out!”

Mallory’s hands turned to fists at her sides. She was shaking all over but she refused to give those girls the satisfaction that they had gotten to her. Caught up in her own frustration, Mallory hadn’t even noticed Cecily had left her side before she heard loud shrieking and the sound of metal clattering to the ground.

She jumped, looking up in surprise. Cecily had left her side to grab the nearest thing she could find – a bowl of melted ice on a nearby refreshments table – and stomped up to Jordan and Kaley from behind and upending the contents over their head. In two seconds they were covered in freezing water, Italian designer dresses ruined, make up running, and leather bags ruined. Mallory actually found herself smiling as they screamed and cried and scurried away, hugging onto each other like they were each other’s lifeline.

“Well,” Cecily looked mighty proud of herself as she clapped her hands together and went back over to Mallory. “That was cathartic. C’mon, let’s go to the bathroom, I need like a million pills for this headache.”

Cecily led her by the arm inside the house. Only some of the bathrooms had medicine cabinets, and most of those were locked to keep idiots from overdosing on dietary pills. But Cecily knew this place well enough that she was able to locate one of the locked doors without too much trouble and had Mallory open it with her personal set of keys (because heaven forbid Mallory get locked out of her own home when there were a bunch of strangers trashing it).

As Cecily looked for the Tylenol, she told her, “You know I hate Jordan and Kaley as much as the next sane person, but you should really try to stand up to them next time. This was just a favor but I won’t always be there to fight your battles, Malzipan.”

Malzipan was an old nickname Mallory had in elementary school and had abandoned it since. She wasn’t particularly fond of Cecily using it, either. “Please don’t call me that.”

Cecily glared at Mallory, speaking as though she never heard her say anything. “Why _didn’t_ you say anything? I mean, you could’ve kicked them out, at least.”

“I didn’t want to make a scene.” Mallory admitted, playing with the sink faucet and making the water turn on and off. “And no one leaves the property until the police approve it. I can’t kick them out until after the police interrogated them. And I know they didn’t, because Jordan and Kaley were stuck in the billiard room until one o’ clock today.”

Cecily snickered as she dropped a couple pills into her palm and grabbed a cup of water. “They’re dumber than a bucket of rocks. There is no way you could actually push your brother out a window, he’s way bigger than you. Where did they say that was again?”

  
“His bedroom,” Mallory replied, then frowned as a thought crossed her mind. “Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. His bedroom window’s _can’t_ open.”

Cecily threw her a strange look as she swallowed her pills. “What are you talking about?”  
  
The realization hit Mallory like a brick wall. Without another word, she jumped to her feet and burst out the bathroom, followed by a bewildered Cecily. She was still asking questions even as they made their way upstairs – Mallory answered none of them until she pushed open the door to Matthias’ bedroom.

A cool breeze pushed the curtains aside and let sunlight into the room. Mallory looked around at the disaster zone – the floor was littered with clothes, both clean and dirty alike, alongside college textbooks and loose sheets of paper. She almost slipped on a skateboard hiding beneath a blanket, but Cecily caught her at the last second.

“Whoa,” Cecily looked around and wrinkled her nose. “You’re brother is a slob.”

“I know,” Mallory said, making her way to the open window and checking the sides. She stuck her arm out – the glass panes had been knocked out, every single one of them. There were a few shards on the ground around her, and she held out a hand to keep Cecily from coming closer in her bare feet. “Be careful, there’s glass. Looks like someone tried punching out the window from the inside.”

She peeked her head out. Yes, on the flower bushes below Mallory could see the reflections of broken glass. “Matthias’ window doesn’t have hinges.”

“So?”

“So,” Mallory turned to look at Cecily, throwing a hand at the window, “That’s why this window shouldn’t be open. It’s _not_ open, someone just broke it. But they completely cleaned it out, too...there isn’t any blood anywhere, doesn’t look like some stupid dare. It’s like-like a strong gust of wind just took it all out.”

“From inside?” Cecily looked unconvinced.

“I don’t know, it looks like it!” Mallory shrugged, not understanding it any better than her friend. This boggled her mind, too, and she was completely sober. “This might be where he fell out, or something, if that’s how he disappeared.”

“How could he fall?” Cecily pointed at the wooden bars that bisected the window. “He’d either have to jump or duck first. Is there anything on the ground?”

“No...” Mallory checked again. Aside from the glass, there was nothing to indicate that a tall, drunken boy had fallen out and crashed into the grass below. “Maybe he climbed up?”

But there were no vines, no lattices for him to do so. If Matthias had fallen out this window, then he never hit the ground

A jolt went through Mallory. _No, impossible_. It couldn’t happen again. Matthias didn’t even believe in fairy tales anymore, he was well into adulthood...well, not emotionally, but whatever. But what else could it be?

That’s when she remembered the thing she saw last night. A silhouette, a shadow. _The_ Shadow?

She had left her window open. It could have gotten inside the house, blown out the window from the inside. Matthias, for whatever reason he was in his room during a massive party, had been there.

Mallory’s heart skipped a beat. It was her fault Matthias was gone.

“Mal?” Cecily repeated for the third time, waving a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Mal! Are you there?”

“What?” Mallory shook her head, blinking rapidly and focusing on Cecily, who she couldn’t remember why she was there. “I – I....I have to go find my mom!”

She ran out of Matthias’ bedroom, leaving half of Cecily’s questions still unanswered. Finding her mother wasn’t that hard – she was still being interviewed in her office, a small, warm room with leather chairs and bookcases. It used to belong to their grandfather before Ms. Farthing took over. She was quietly talking to the two policemen when Mallory slammed into the doors and flung them wide open, causing all three adults to jump and turn around in surprise.

Mallory was quite a sight. Panting, wide-eyed, and looking more than a little upset, she probably had enough against her to be written off as crazy and sent off to the nearest mental facility. A huffing and puffing Cecily, who followed up behind her, red-faced and looking a little ill, did not make the image any more normal.

“Mom!” Mallory gasped, leaning against the doorframe as she tried to catch her breath. “Mom, I know who took him!”

Her mother just turned her head to look at her daughter, deigned her exclamation with a single blink. It was all the acknowledgement Mallory was going to get from her.

The policemen were much more enthusiastic about this news. They stood up, expressions alert, as they asked in unison, “Who was it? What did he look like?”

That must be regular police procedure. The two men exchanged glances with each other before waiting for Mallory’s reply.

She still hadn’t taken her gaze off her mother, whose expression remained absolutely devoid of any emotion. What was she thinking right now? “I saw him. I know it was him. It was the Shadow Man.”

The policemen couldn’t be less subtle in hiding their disappointment. Mallory realized only a second later how stupid she sounded, just as her mother stood up from her seat and spoke to the two cops in front of her. In a soft, smooth voice she told them, “I’m sorry, gentlemen. As you can clearly see, my son’s disappearance has her very upset and irrational. After the events of today, I’m not surprised she has started to act out because of her inner fears. Disregard what she says; right now, she just needs rest.”

“Mom!” Mallory shouted, at a loss for words. The only person who could possibly understand the gravity of the circumstances was now utterly ignoring them. Didn’t she believe her? What was she going to do if the one magical person she knew wasn’t going to do anything about it? “Mom, I’m being serious! He really was taken, I –”

“Mal,” Cecily whispered, taking Mallory’s arm and pulling her back. She knew as well as Mallory did that the situation was hopeless. “There’s no point. C’mon, you’re probably just tired...”

“Not you, too!” Mallory snapped, yanking her arm out of Cecily’s grip. She immediately felt bad about it, at Cecily’s hurt expression. “I’m sorry. I just – I just _can’t_ , right now, okay?”

“Mallory, wait!” Cecily called, but Mallory had already taken off running, tears streaming down her face.

 

*******

 

She locked herself in the room for the rest of the day. Mallory spent most of the time crying and moping, while Cecily banged on the door and demanded to be let in. Mallory refused, and after about an hour of talking to a door, Cecily gave up and left.

Cecily leaving made her feel even more depressed. Great, now she made the only person who liked her go away. Mallory wanted to call Cecily, ask her to come back, but Cecily didn’t pick up her phone. Either it was lost or she was screening Mallory’s calls out of spite. Probably the last one.

The concept of a family dinner was alien to the Farthing family. Everyone just ate what they wanted, when they wanted, wherever they wanted. Helena Farthing often ate in her office or at the dinner table by herself with a glass of wine, while Mallory kept to her room. Matthias either stuck to the living room with boxes of pizza and his video games or went out with friends into the city. The kitchen had its own chef and team of cooks, who would make anything and everything the Farthing family members desired, and then the wait staff would have it delivered to whatever room those members were currently in. The house had an intercom system that made this convenient and allowed Mallory to avoid all contact with her mother (and vice versa, she assumed).

That night, all Mallory could stomach was chicken soup and ginger ale. Her constant fretting made her feel sick, as stress usually did, and sometimes she just sat on the bathroom floor, expecting to throw up at any moment. When she never did, she went back into her room and lied on her bed, trying to sleep but too restless to dream.

Really, Mallory just wanted to _do_ something. She knew what she saw, she knew what had happened to Matthias, as unbelievable as it seemed, and she knew that there was nothing the police could do about it. They weren’t able to do anything before, thirteen years ago, so why would that change now?

But admitting that this was real meant that Mallory had to face her memories, memories of being ridiculed as a child for believing in stupid things like living shadows, shadows that had no body it connected to. Until now, Mallory had convinced herself that _none_ of it was real, that whatever magic she saw must have been just in her head – like the child therapist kept telling her. It was easier that way, even though it directly contradicted what she knew about her own family. It just made it easier to live, to pretend.

Mallory was sure as hell her mother wasn’t going to do anything. Like Mallory, she outwardly denied the existence of Magic, and would continue to do so to her grave. Even if it meant her son would never be saved, Helena Farthing would not act on her true beliefs. It was better to protect that secret and never see her son again than risk the truth getting out but still being able to hug Matthias every morning.

Needless to say, Helena Farthing had very skewed priorities.

Mallory was not like her mother. She would not stand around and let the worse happen if she could help it. If the Shadow Man appeared before, he could appear again, and Mallory would be damned if she wouldn’t do her best to try to help her own brother.

So, that night, without alerting the house staff, she climbed out her open window and latched onto the vines that covered this side of the house.

Mallory wasn’t necessarily afraid of heights, but she realized the value of solid ground beneath her feet when she looked down and immediately received vertigo at the sight of the fifty foot drop.

 _Yeah, probably not gonna live through that_ , Mallory thought to herself, shaking her head and looking back up. _At least not without a few broken bones_.

Climbing was a difficult process. Every move upward threatened to break the latticework the vines were wrapped around. The constant shaking made Mallory shake herself and by the time she climbed onto the roof, she had to lie down and get her heartbeat to regulate. This would’ve been a lot easier if there had been a window or door to the roof, but the fact that there was none meant that she didn’t really have a choice. Besides, she needed to be somewhere no one could see or hear her.

The woods stretched out on all sides of the house. At least her home at the advantage of seclusion. A single road let out towards the city lights on the horizon. Somewhere in the trees was a gate that kept out any undesirables (for Mallory, that was pretty much everyone).

But she didn’t care about her surroundings. The sky was her focus.

She waited for an eternity, hoping to see that Shadow Man. Would he come back after getting Matthias? Would Matthias be able to make it back on his own? Mallory hoped so but she doubted it. He had been drunk out of his mind when he was taken, even now he would still be hung over. Maybe high, too, she had no idea. With enough substance in his body to tranquilize an elephant, Matthias was in no state to defend himself, much less escape.

“Come on!” Mallory shouted at the sky when she finally lost her patience. “I know it was you! I know you took my brother! What the hell are you waiting for?”

Her voice echoed over the treetops but she received no response. Mallory gritted her teeth and stomped her foot as she called out, “Don’t try to fool me! I don’t care if no one else believes it was you, I _know_ you’re real! I know you exist! Why don’t you come back down here and deal with someone who’s actually _sober_ for once!”

Mallory wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself. What was she thinking? The Shadow Man didn’t exist. Her mother was right, she was just a tired and stupid girl who couldn’t tell fantasy from reality. Stupid fairy tale books, why did she even bother...

She had just turned around when some flew past the corner of her eye. Mallory spun, nearly losing her balance on the slope of the roof, and fell on her butt before she could fall. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at the figure, almost invisible against the sky – except for its glowing eyes, watching her as it hovered in the air above.

 _Holy crap_. Mallory wondered if she had just angered some ancient deity and if it was going to smite her now for insulting it. But the Shadow Man remained utterly silent, just floating in the air above her. Mallory had the guts to act first: “ _Well_? Where did you take my brother?”

She sounded far too demanding than her position allowed. Mallory wasn’t in power, powerless as she was. This creature could fly, it could take full grown men away from their homes. What chance did she have against it?

But instead of attacking, the Shadow lowered its hand, extending it towards her. Mallory gaped, unable to believe what she was seeing. Was it serious? Did it really expect her to take it?

She had hesitated for too long. It lost interest, dropped its hand, and started to turn away. Mallory realized her mistake and jumped to her feet, shouting, “Wait! Wait, let me come with you!”

Mallory didn’t know where it would take her. She didn’t even know if it would bring her to Matthias. But she had to hope, it was her only chance.

(Besides, she’d rather spend time in a completely unrecognizable location than spend the rest of her life alone with her mother. The very thought sent shudders down her spine).

The Shadow Man turned and took her outstretched hand. Even though it was see-through the hand felt surprisingly solid. And strong. Before Mallory could say anything else, her feet suddenly left the ground and with a rush of wind she was being carried through the air.

Mallory almost panicked, but the Shadow Man had a grip as tough as iron. It wouldn’t let go, no matter how much she flailed in the air, like a duck that didn’t know how to fly. She made the mistake of looking down again, saw that her house had been reduced to the size of a Lego brick. She could see Los Angeles in the distance, a vast, complex grid of lights. Farther still, she could see the faint glittering of the Pacific Ocean.

Her ears popped several times. The only direction the Shadow Man seemed to be going in was up, towards the stars on the horizon. Mallory looked ahead, noticing that two stars in particular stood out – very bright and actually _twinkling_. Mallory never really paid attention to the stars before. Usually the light pollution just blocked them out. But even these seemed too bright, too large to be real...

They seemed to be flying straight towards them. Specifically, the second star to the right. Something occurred to Mallory, a strange sensation of déjà vu, but she couldn’t recall why this felt so significant.

Then they were flying over the ocean. Higher and higher, until she could see the curvature of the earth. The stars seemed too close now – Mallory now could see odd arcs of color around them, like electrons around a nucleus, or the rings of a planet. The star got so close and so bright, in fact, that there was a moment where Mallory couldn’t see anything but bright white light.

And when she opened her eyes again, Mallory was no longer flying at the altitude of an airliner. Below her was an island, an island with tall mountains and sandy beaches and a sky so thick with stars it looked like a painting. Where was she? Hawai’i? The Philippines’?

Neither seemed correct. There was no discernible town or city on the island, just thick jungle. On the island she thought she saw bits of lights, like maybe a camp. They flickered out before she could be sure.

Yet, even as they flew over, the clear skies had changed to dark clouds and sudden gusts that threatened to dislodge the Shadow Man’s grip on her hand. The dark waters churned below, but Mallory hadn’t yet felt afraid. The Shadow Man had such a good hold on her that she didn’t think it would actually do the unthinkable.

The Shadow Man let go.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

* * *

* * *

 

 

Mallory screamed as she plummeted through thin air before finally crashing into the rolling black waves below.

 _Whoom_. The cold hit her like a brick wall, stunning the girl and leaving her momentarily paralyzed as she sank deeper into its depths. The world went suddenly very quiet as the water muted all sounds of the storm above her.

It wasn’t until her chest started to hurt that Mallory realized she had forgotten to take in some air before going under and the terror was enough to shock her system back into action.

At least she could swim. She pushed her chest upwards, kicking with her legs and reaching for the sky. She had just broke the surface and opened her mouth to take in a lungful of air when a wave hit her in the face, filling her mouth with salty water and forcing her back under. Mallory choked, only to swallow more of the sea and in turn struggling to breathe as she tried to get back up again.

The waves slammed her back and forth. She couldn’t keep herself up for very long before another curl crashed into her face or back, forcing her farther away from the dark, distant shore. Mallory tried to scream for help but they were just taken by the wind. The effort to just find air to breath was taking all the energy out of her. Mallory was becoming so fatigued that she needed the air to just keep moving and not drown out of exhaustion.

When a crest took her under again, Mallory could feel her kicks getting weaker, her attempts to fight the storm waning. Then, when she went under again, she couldn’t get back up.

Her heart was like a rabbit, beating too hard and doing everything it could to survive the freezing waters that threatened to overtake it. Mallory tried to see in the dark water but saw nothing. Was this really going to be the last thing she saw? Would her first and only trip to Neverland end with her never even reaching the sandy shore? Is there were her quest ended, right before it could even begin?

Mallory’s vision faded in and out, pockets of memory just gone. She couldn’t recall what happened, just that she must’ve fallen unconscious. If she died, maybe she would be asleep or something. It was the only pleasant thought she could allow herself at this moment.

Her lungs burned for air, but her arms and legs felt too heavy to move. Mallory could feel herself sinking and was horrified to find that there was nothing she could do to stop it. She wanted to scream in rage and helplessness, but she couldn’t even manage that.

Maybe it was right that her mother saw Matthias as the special one. Matthias would’ve known how to escape this situation; he would’ve been both smart enough and strong enough to beat the storm. With his magic, he was powerful, he was great.

Mallory, with her nothing, was nothing.

Then something wrapped around her leg. Mallory thought it was seaweed, that she had finally reached the bottom and was about to meet her watery grave. Was she about to be issued a combination for Davy Jones’ Locker?

But the seaweed didn’t act like seaweed. Instead of pulling her down, it was taking her _up_ , and much faster than Mallory initially inspected. Although she was barely conscious and couldn’t see anything, she was aware of its pull and the sensation of something hitting the back of her head, catching her arms, pulling her up and out of the water.

Mallory gasped as the air met her lips. Then immediately started throwing up water, suffocating all over again as she couldn’t stop long enough to get in more air. Just when she was terrified of going unconscious again, Mallory was able to suck in oxygen and fell slack in whatever had pulled her out of the water.

Shivering with cold, half-dead and too exhausted to move aside from breathing, Mallory didn’t even hear the loud bell ringing and the shouts of men before realizing what she on. Or _in_ , as the case may be.

Her arms rubbed against some rough and cold. Forcing herself to open her eyes, Mallory realized it was rope, all around her in the shapes of diamonds. A net. She had been caught!  
  
And she wasn’t alone, either.

Something was still wrapped around her legs. It was slimy and scaly, and at first she thought it was fish. She seemed to be in a fish net, after all, and she wasn’t half wrong. The other half, however was a woman, glaring at her as if she was offended to be sharing a fish net with another person.

Mallory gaped at the woman with the fish tail. The scales glittered green and purple in the week orange light...wherever _that_ was coming from. Then she looked around, and realized she was hanging over a wooden deck. Men in striped shirt and kerchiefs around their heads were running about below her, and she was relieved. She had been saved! These sailors, these fishers would help her. Then Mallory noticed that they were armed with swords and flintlock pistols. Wait, flintlock pistols? What kind of sailors were these?

She was still reeling with the mermaid. That’s what she was, right? What else could she be?

“Bring ‘er down, boys!” someone called, a male with a deep, rough voice. There was a sudden jerk as the net was lowered to the deck. It stopped a few feet from the wood. Mallory could reach through the holes in the net and touch it, but she was too weak to try.

She was covered in seaweed and was freezing cold. In front of her, two black boots appeared, thick leather worn with salt and age. Slowly, her gaze panned up to see the blue pants, the black coat with gold buttons, the red sash at his waist, the close-shaven red beard and tricorn hat. The man himself couldn’t have been older than his forties, but he had a thick scar going over one eye, rendering it white and blind. He was smiling down at her, arms crossed. His teeth were almost completely black. He called to the men surrounding the net. “Well, well, well, look what we have here, gentlemen! Looks like this little lass got herself in a mite of trouble.”

The men laughed, clearly unconcerned that she had been drowning just a minute ago. Mallory scowled, already deciding she didn’t like these sailors. “Let me out! I need to get to shore!”

Her voice was stronger than she expected it to be. Mallory surprised herself – the air was doing a lot more than she expected. She already felt able enough to sit up in the net, but decided not to. She could already smell the stench of these unwashed men and decided the seaweed was better.

“That’s not how it works, little girl,” the man in the black coat replied, shaking his head with another chuckle. “See, if Pan wanted you on his island, then you would _be_ on that island. Why do you think we’re out here, fishing for mermaids?” he flashed a smile at the fish-tailed woman sharing the net. “We just want to have a little chat with you, that’s all.”

“I do not negotiate with pirates!” the mermaid shouted, throwing her shoulders back with a look that screamed dignity and disgust. “My queen will have your head for this!”

“Oh, she can try,” the man laughed.

Mallory could feel the blood draining from her face. She pointed a shaky finger up at him, whispering, “Y-you’re pirates?”

“Well, what did you think we were?” the man in the black coat said, throwing her an odd look. “Her Majesty’s Royal Navy?”

“Then you must be Captain Hook!” Mallory exclaimed.

“Captain Hook?” the man blinked. Then he burst out laughing, and his men along with him. He slapped his knee with his hand. Mallory noticed that neither of them bore a hook. “Lass, I’m not that lovesick excuse for a pirate. No, you may know me as Captain Flint, greatest pirate and ship plunderer the world has ever known! Welcome aboard my ship, the _Jolly Roger_!”

Mallory made a face. Lovesick wasn’t exactly the word she’d use to describe Captain Hook. But Captain Flint? The name sounded familiar, yet Mallory couldn’t remember where she had heard it. Another book, perhaps, or a movie. She was so terrified at the moment that she couldn’t recall.

Then Captain Flint drew his cutlass, leveled it at Mallory’s throat, and asked in a low voice, “And don’t you forget it. As the residents of Davy Jones’ Locker know, I have little patience for fools and tricksters. Are you either?”

“Nope,” Mallory quickly shook her head, trying to edge away from the edge of the blade. “Not a fool, not a trickster, just a girl.”

“Hmm,” Captain Flint eyed her for a moment before putting away his sword. “Odd, for the Shadow to take a girl. You’d think Pan would’ve knocked some sense into it by now.”

“Should we leave her to him?” a man in a red cap asked. He seemed almost elderly in comparison to the rest, with a white beard and eyebrows

“Ah, and give him another little follower? I don’t think so.” Captain Flint laughed, turning to the man. “Now, Mr. Smee, why don’t you go fetch the knives? I feel our mermaid friend here will need a little bit of convincing before she lets us into her Lagoon.”  
  
Mr. Smee, the man in the red cap, nodded quickly and dashed away, through some doors that led down on stairs into darkness. The belly of the ship, where they stored the cannons, the kitchen, and the loot. Mallory still couldn’t believe she was in the presence of pirates. Would they kill her? They didn’t seem interested in letting her go.

She tried to sit up, her arms shaking with the effort. Captain Flint turned around and peered closer to the rope, reaching in and extending a finger towards the mermaid’s face. In a sickly sweet voice, he said, “Oh, please, Calliope, will you tell me where your secret Lagoon is? I promise to leave you and your sisters unharmed.”

Calliope wrinkled her nose, looking disgusted. When Flint tried to touch her face, she snapped, almost taking his finger off. But the Captain was faster, drawing his hand away and wagging a finger, “Ah-ah-ah! You keep doing that, and you can say good-bye to little Apolline. I can’t ensure your sisters’ safety if you keep acting like that, Calliope.”

“Drop dead,” was the mermaid’s reply.

Captain Flint laughed. Smee returned, red-faced and huffing, with a large tin box. He opened it for Captain Flint, who looked inside at the array of some very sharp utensils. None of them had been washed recently. “Well, I had hoped I didn’t have to do this, but you’re not giving yourself very many options, Calliope.”

That’s when Mallory started to eye his sword. It was so close. Perhaps she could take it, pull it out and break out of here? She was just starting to reach for it when Flint moved and she immediately drew her hand in. He didn’t notice, however, and just pointed at one of his men. “You! Grab the net, make sure she doesn’t thrash too much.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the man he pointed at saluted and came on over. He had a thick black beard with a green kerchief around his head and two swords at his side. Mallory tried to ease away from him, the stench making her eyes water, but there was nowhere to go inside the net. The man took hold of the net with his big, meaty hands, planting his feet to the deck as the mermaid’s tail started to twitch anxiously.

“Ah, this might do,” Flint rose what looked like a medieval version of a scalpel, then turned back to the mermaid with a saccharine smile. “I’m going to ask you one last time, mermaid. Where. Is. Your. Lagoon?”

“I’ll die before I’ll ever tell you anything,” the mermaid declared, challenging Flint with a furious snarl.

“A situation easily remedied,” Flint replied, with perhaps a bit too much ease. He drew in, extending the scalpel towards the mermaids face. Mallory hadn’t noticed until now, but the mermaid was all tangled up in the net, her arms pinned and knotted into the ropes. She couldn’t raise a hand to defend herself as the scalpel drew across her cheek. A thin streak of blood washed half of her face red.

The mermaid flinched but did not cry out. Flint seemed disappointed and raised the scalpel to her eye. “You’re making this a lot harder than it has to be, Calliope.”

Calliope just glared at him and clamped her mouth shut.

Every horror movie flashed inside Mallory’s head as she watched helplessly from the other end of the net. She could barely handle the fake gore on screen, she wasn’t sure if she could take it in real life. Just as the edge of the blade was centimeters from the mermaid’s eye, Mallory did the first thing that came to mind.

She lunged forward, her arm shooting out of the net and grabbing Flint’s sword just a few feet away. The captain shouted in surprise as she yanked the sword out of its sheath and pulled back before he could stop her.

A big meaty hand fell on her shoulder. The other pirate, holding onto the net. Mallory pulled away, managing to get to her feet inside the net and slashing with the sword as hard as she could.

The blade sliced through the rope like it was made of twine. The tension holding her up was suddenly released and Mallory hit the ground, the seaweed around her making a loud slapping sound. Just as Flint and the black-bearded pirate lunged for her, she jumped back and onto the wooden railing of the ship.

The mermaid had slipped out of the net, her arms coming free as she scrabbled for purchase on the slick wooden surface. Without any legs, the mermaid didn’t have an advantage, but her tail quickly proved effective as she slapped it across the deck, knocking Flint and any nearby pirates onto their backs.

Still gripping the sword, Mallory held it up towards any pirate who dared come near her. With a thrashing mermaid below her, no one came any closer. The pirates watched her, eyes wide. Were they afraid of her? The idea made Mallory smile.

She shifted her stance, about to make some badass speech. Then her footing slipped and she fell backwards off the ship.

_Splash!_

The water seemed to have gotten colder since she left it. Mallory felt something bump into her underwater. She still had her grip on the sword and hoped that if it was some shark about to attack, she could defend herself.

But no. A hand wrapped around her wrist, yanking with surprising force. Mallory thought that maybe one of the pirates had jumped in after her, but when she opened her eyes under water, Mallory saw that it wasn’t a man at all. It was a mermaid. Calliope, to be specific. She must have followed Mallory soon after she fell.

The mermaid pulled Mallory away from the boat. It glimmered above the water, its flames dancing across the surface like sparklers on the water. Mallory’s head broke the surface of the water at some point and she realized she was being taken to shore.

The mermaid must have forgotten that humans couldn’t breathe underwater because that’s where Mallory was for most of the journey being pulled to shore. By the time Mallory’s legs were skimming against sand, her lungs were screaming for oxygen. The mermaid finally let go and Mallory threw herself forward onto the surf, throwing her head up and sucking in a lungful of air.

As she lay spluttering in the shallows, the mermaid’s head appeared behind her. Her red-orange hair glimmered in the moonlight –once again, the weather had changed, seemingly on a dime. Mallory turned and called out, “Why did you save me?”

“You set me free, girl,” Calliope replied. She didn’t seem particularly happy about being alive. Maybe she was a little irked to have been saved by a human. “This is me repaying my debt. But do not expect warm welcomes from the mermaids, we are not your friends.”

And with that, she disappeared. A flash of scales, and then nothing.

Mallory was still heaving for breath. She watched the water for a few more seconds before facing the sand once more and dragging herself out of the water. Her clothes dragged her down, as did the cutlass that she still kept in an iron grip. Mallory didn’t know what dangers waited for her ahead, but if her introduction to the pirates meant anything, this road was going to get pretty rough.

A soft wind blew, sending chills all over Mallory’s body. She hugged her arms, looking around and hoping to find some sort of shelter to take for the night. Sand and water in her shoes, Mallory’s movements were sluggish and painful. The initial fall alone had left her sore and exhausted. Right now, she felt as though she could just collapse on the sand and sleep for an age.

She made it to the trees before finally allowing herself to sit down. Strange noises came from deep within the jungle, high screeches and whines from a variety of animals. Mallory wiped some wet hair from her face, looking around for any danger. She was terrified of going to sleep, wondering if something may attack her while she dreamt.

Just as Mallory started to settle in at the base of a tree trunk, a voice spoke behind her. “Hello.”

Mallory yelped, jumping to her feet and whirling around. As she did so, she took her sword and aimed it in the direction of the voice.

The tip of her blade came nary a few inches from the throat of her would-be attacker. Not a pirate, as she assumed, but a boy. A boy with blond hair and glittering green eyes.

He had his hands up in surrender, in case she thought of finishing the job. “Hey, watch it! I’m not going to hurt you!”

It was going to take a lot more than that to convince Mallory to put down her weapon. Scowling, she demanded, “Who are you? What do you want? Where am I?”  
  
The boy blinked at her, his confusion apparently trumping his fear as he dropped his hands and threw her a wry smile. “Well, don’t you know?”

“Know what?” Mallory asked, watching him with wary eyes. When he took a step forward, she made a quick step back. “Just tell me already!”

“It’s only the place of dreams and legends.” The boy’s smile grew wider. He splayed his arms out, as if welcoming her. “You’re in Neverland, girl.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

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* * *

 

 

There was a long second where Mallory just stared at the boy. Then she started to laugh.

Neverland? Seriously? Who did this kid think she was? Sure, Magic may exist but _this_? This was ridiculous.

The boy frowned at her. “What’s so funny?”

He had an English accent and in her opinion made him a lot less threatening. Mallory dropped her sword. Any kid who thought Neverland was real was an idiot. Still laughing, she told him, “Do I look I was born yesterday? Neverland doesn’t exist! It’s just a fairy tale for little kids to dream about. I don’t know where you think we are, but it’s definitely not Neverland.”

The boy just smirked at her, folding his arms across his chest. He stepped out of the shrubbery he had been hiding in. He surprised Mallory by being taller than her. So, not _just_ a boy, then. “All right, then. If you’re so smart, tell me where we really are?”

“Well,” Mallory said, motioning towards the land around them. “We’re clearly on a tropical island in the Pacific. I mean, its small enough to go unnoticed on a map. Maybe we’re on one of those Hawaiian Islands no one else is allowed on. It could be anywhere, really.”  
  
“So, you have no idea, then,” the boy just shook his head, unconvinced. He pointed out to see, at the ship sailing in the distance. “And I’m sure that pirates, with their swords and cannons, are very common on this Pacific you speak of.”

Mallory felt her confidence start to fade. She bit her lip, wondering how to rationalize _that_. Where did those pirates come from? For that matter, where did the boy? He seemed to have popped out of nowhere. She turned back to him, scowling, “I don’t know! I don’t have an answer for everything, but I _know_ we’re not on Neverland. It doesn’t exist! It’s not real!”

“You’re just having trouble believing, that’s all,” the boy shrugged his shoulders. His dress surprised her – it seemed to be made of plants and wood bark, almost entirely green in color. He fixed her with a sharp look. “So if this place isn’t Neverland, how did you get here?”

“I–” Mallory was about to give a smart reply, but stopped herself when she realized how stupid the answer would be. Instead of telling the truth, she said, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” the boy made a face, like he didn’t quite believe her. “What? So you just woke up on this beach, not a clue how you got here? Come on, you’re gonna have to try better than that.”

“Fine, but you wouldn’t believe me anyways,” Mallory replied, scowling. “It sounds stupid, but a Shadow brought me here.”

“Are you sure?” the boy tilted his head, almost mocking.

“Well, you don’t have to make fun of me!” Mallory threw her arms up in the air. Huffing, she turned around and started stomping away. She had enough with this annoying, crazy boy. “Why did I even bother?”

“You’re leaving all ready?” the boy called out behind her. He didn’t seem to be trying to catch up. “You haven’t even asked about your brother yet!”

Mallory came to an abrupt stop. Slowly, she turned around. The boy was still standing there, a smirk on his face. She raised her sword, every sense on high alert. In a low voice, she asked, “How did you know about that? Who are you?”

This was no ordinary boy. Mallory knew that now. The way he smiled, the way his eyes shined too brightly – he knew something, he knew far more than he should for some crazy island boy. There was a creeping feeling in the back of Mallory’s mind, that she was not safe here. That even though she had the sword, this boy still had the upper hand.

The boy looked down at her sword, suddenly interested in it. He raised a hand to touch it, eyebrows rising. “Is that...is that Captain Flint’s sword?”

“Yeah,” Mallory said, straightening a little. The way the boy said the pirate’s name meant that this was something she should be proud of. “So what if it is?”

“Incredible,” the boy muttered to himself, tilting his head as he analyzed the blade for a few more seconds. He seemed completely unperturbed that it was aimed at his throat.

Mallory didn’t quite hear him. “What was that? Speak up.”  
  
The boy looked back at her, a new glimmer in his eyes. “Do you like to play games?”

Mallory shifted on her feet, unsure where he was going with this. He sounded oddly enthusiastic about it. “Uh, I guess. Depends on the game. Why?”

“Because I like playing games.” The boy replied, placing his hands behind his back and starting to move. Mallory didn’t let the sword waver away from him. He started to circle around her, eyes twinkling with glee. “Let’s play one, right now.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Mallory said, squinting at him. She didn’t even know the boy’s name yet but she already knew that he was a total wild card, someone she should never trust.

“Oh, but you haven’t even heard what it is yet!” the boy complained. “Believe me, if you give it a try, you’ll like it.”

“All I want,” Mallory took a deep breath before she could lose her patience and slice the boy’s throat before she wanted to. “Is answers. I want to know where my brother is.”

“And I want to have some fun,” the boy shot back. He had now made a complete circle around Mallory and was going for another. Mallory scowled. Was he trying to make her dizzy? “If we play my game, we get to have the best of both worlds. I have fun, you get answers. How does that sound?”

Mallory considered it for a moment. The boy’s face was indiscernible, so she couldn’t tell what he was really thinking, although she didn’t doubt it wasn’t something good. He hadn’t tried very hard to convince her, seemed expectant of her decision like he already knew what she was going to say. “All right, fine. What’s this stupid game of yours?”  
  
“Oh, it’s fairly simple.” The boy was grinning again, excited that she had finally agreed. He practically hopped with glee. Mallory was a little concerned. No kid like him should be this happy about getting to play a game. “I tell you what to do, and you do it. If you do it _right_ , then you get your answers. How does that sound?”

“What are you going to ask me to do?” Mallory asked, a cold creeping feeling going down her back. That didn’t sound like a fun game at all.

“Well, if I told you ahead of time, it wouldn’t be fair, now would it?” The boy replied. “You have to _earn_ your reward, Mallory.”

“Fine. But can you at least give me a hint or advice or something?” she tried – she didn’t know what to expect and figured she could use all the help she could get. “A sporting chance?”

The boy chuckled, bowing his head for a moment as he kicked up a bit of sand. “Oh, all right, you’ve convinced me, Mallory. This game...this game is going to be a little rougher than your run-of-the-mill Simon Says. In fact, I’d say it would be rather dangerous. Life-threatening, even. You might have to fight a couple pirates, slay a few dragons, who knows. On Neverland, anything is possible.”

Mallory’s breath hitched in her throat. She swallowed, but her voice still cracked when she said, “O-okay. Are-are there any rules I have to follow?”

The boy casted a sly smile at her. “Ah, clever of Mallory, I almost forgot. Yes, there are, in fact. Whatever I say, you must do, no matter how much you don’t want to. If you refuse to do anything, or make someone else do it for you, then the game is forfeit and you lose and you don’t get what you want. You can’t ask for help from anyone else and you can’t tell anyone the game we’re playing. If you do, you lose. If you leave this island, you lose. If you try to kill me, you lose. Any questions?”

It seemed pretty clear to her. He brought a finger up, pushing away the blade she was threatening him with. Mallory paused to think for a second, sensing that something was off in this conversation. It didn’t hit her until half-way through when she started talking again: “No, I don’t thi...”

The boy watched her, brow furrowing. “What?”

“I-I never told you my name.” Mallory paused, taking a half-step back.

The boy made his fourth rotation and stopped, blinking at her. “No, I know.”  
  
Mallory took a deep breath. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising – if this boy knew she was Matthias’ sister, then he probably knew her name. But that didn’t mean she was okay with it. She prodded him with her sword, pressing it against his chest. “Well, then, tell me your name. It’s only fair.”

“That’s not a rule,” the boy said, shaking his head.

“It’s not about the game,” Mallory countered, pushing him back with her sword. Oh, she was going to have his name, whether he liked it or not. “It’s so I know what to call you. So I know who to tell my family about when I get back.”

That last sentence she improvised, but Mallory supposed a bit of flattery, as strange as it seemed, would help a little. She was right. The boy seemed pleased with the thought and said, “All right. But if I tell you, that means you agree to the terms of the game and it starts right then. No compromises.”

Mallory dropped her sword, realizing how soon this was about to happen. She didn’t think she was ready, she wanted more time to prepare. But it seemed as though she didn’t have a choice. “I agree to your terms.”

The boy stuck out his hand. “Shake on it?”

Mallory stared at his hand, wondering his sincerity. Seeing as it couldn’t hurt, and that this was a game based heavily on its rules, she might as well get all the insurance she could fine. She took his hand, about to speak when the boy’s grip started to crush her hand, making Mallory cry out.

The boy yanked, making Mallory trip and she rammed into him. For a boy so thin, he was incredibly strong, and when he wrapped his other arm around her back, pinning her in place.

His grip around her was so tight that Mallory couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded against her chest. Could he feel it? Mallory was sure he could sense her fear. She strained against his grip but could not break free. How could he be so strong?

The boy brought his lips to her ear, whispering, “Nothing happens on Neverland without my say so. My name is Peter Pan, and this is my island. So I suggest you start running.”

And with that, he pushed her back, sending Mallory sprawling into the sand dunes. When she looked up again, he was gone.

When Mallory got up, she was in the middle of brushing wet sand off her clothes when she heard something that made her start and whirl around. Distant whoops and cheers, somewhere in the woods. As the seconds passed, the sounds got louder and closer.

Mallory saw the torches and figures flashed between the trees higher up on the hill beyond. Less than half a mile away, what looked like a hunting party was heading towards the beach. She stumbled in the sand, picking up her sword and watching their descent.

The first head broke through the brush and spotted her instantly. He pointed, just as more appeared behind him. “There she is! Get her!”

Mallory saw their bows and swords. She turned and started to run.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

* * *

* * *

 

 

Mallory’s lungs were on fire. She didn’t think she had ever run so fast in her life.

She wasn’t exactly a stranger to exercise. The demands of society, especially in the realm of celebrity (and under the watchful gaze of Shari) meant that Mallory had been kept on a strict diet and exercise regimen. She was a better runner than a lifter, but even then it was for appearance only and she never really had to motivation to compete in anything. Mallory certainly never bothered to find out how fast she could _really_ go.

Of course, there was no better motivation than a horde of bloodthirsty wild boys chasing her.

She didn’t have a lot of options on where to go. The ocean definitely wasn’t an option, certainly not after the warning the mermaid left her with. Mallory could only head further down the beach, in the hopes of out running these boys, who thankfully were younger and for the most part shorter than her. She also had a decent headstart. If she got far enough ahead, Mallory could head into the jungle without fear of being cornered by a flanking party.

But Mallory was starting to fear she wouldn’t make it that far. It had to be at least a minute, if not two, and Mallory could only go for so long at a full-sprint, having already been exhausted by a swim in the sea. She had to think of something fast.

Her desire for survival kept Mallory going longer than she thought. She spotted a palm tree ahead, marked it for her turning point. If she still had some distance on the boys once she reached that tree, she would head into the woods. They had the advantage of knowing the land better, but boys being boys she wondered just how good at tracking they would be, especially in the manic state they were. It was the only chance she had.

Arrows flew down from above. Thankfully, she was far enough ahead that kept them from being good shots, but one arrowhead came narrowly close to her head and Mallory decided to cut into the jungle ahead of time.

Swerving at an almost ninety degree angle, Mallory charged into the forest, those boys hot on her heels.

Mallory burst through those first bushes, leaves and branches smacking against her face and shocking her system. The pain gave her a short burst of adrenalin and helped her forward. She held her sword at her side, in case something needed to be sliced out of her way.

Jumping over a log, Mallory allowed herself a tiny smile when she heard the yelling and shouting falter a little bit. So the boys weren’t expecting her to come in here, or weren’t looking forward to following her. Charging as a group into the thick woods was not as easy when you were doing it on your own, as it seemed.

Mallory cut down some stalks of bamboo as she made her way through another thicket. Using the sword, its ease of use, made her feel incredibly strong and lethal, even if they were just a bunch of plants.

She came across a path of trodden leaves and cut branches – something the boys must’ve made some time ago. Mallory paused, wondering if _that_ was why the calls got quiet. They had these trails to follow, then they could move quietly and stalk her down like an animal...

The paranoia gave Mallory another burst of speed, darting off the path and into the trees again. No, it was best to avoid any signs of civilized life, as primitive as they seemed.

Mallory spotted a length of rope on the ground a second before she jumped over it. A loop, like it was meant to catch her foot. Oh, good, they had traps set up in the woods as well, wonderful.

At some point Mallory realized she was making so much noise getting through these woods that it wouldn’t be very hard to follow her, no tracking skills required. Perhaps that’s why it had gotten so quiet around here. She came to an abrupt stop in the middle of her run and ducked behind a large tree, its roots big enough to hide her entire body.

Taking deep breaths to calm down and silence her panting, Mallory crouched down and hide beneath the ferns. She counted the seconds as they went by, holding her cutlass close to her body. Come on, come on, she _knew_ she was being followed...

Twenty seconds after she hid, Mallory heard the crunch of footsteps on dead leaves. She held her breath and curled up a little tighter as she felt hunters walk by, pausing near the place where she had stopped to hide.

There was a moment of silence. Then a low voice said, “The tracks stop here.”  
  
“I don’t hear anything, either,” another boy said, his voice higher, younger. “You think she’s onto us.”

“She’s a stupid girl,” the low voice said, snapping a branch off a nearby sapling. “She panics and runs. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets eaten by a bear or a lion. Come on, let’s head back see if any of the snares have caught anything.”

“But what about Pan?” the younger voice said, sounding nervous. Out of the corner of her eye, Mallory saw the boy’s shadow. He seemed so small to be living in a forest. “Won’t he be angry with us for not getting her?”

“Pan has his own plans,” The older one replied. Mallory could hear him turn and starting to walk back the way he came. “Whether we catch her or not doesn’t matter. He just had to keep her on the island somehow. I don’t suspect she’ll last very long, though.”

“Yeah, what was Pan thinking?” the younger one snickered. Their voices were getting smaller and smaller as they disappeared back into the woods. “Bringing a _girl_ here...”

Mallory made a face, feeling offended. Jerks.

She waited ten minutes before finally getting up again. Mallory made sure there was no one following her before continuing her journey further into the woods. This time, however, she kept her steps slow and quiet, doing her best not to disturb the wildlife. She needed a place to hide for the night. Who knew how many hunters there were still looking for her, still looking for Peter Pan’s approval?

That’s what it was about, right? These boys were with Peter. They were the Lost Boys. That much Mallory remembered – and she hadn’t seen any other girls, either, so that kind of affirmed her assumption of why those two hunters thought she’d get herself killed out here. Well, she’d show them!  
  
Eventually, Mallory came across a steep rock wall, the bottom of a cliff. She looked around, hoping for some cover. The night was still dark and she feared that it would start raining again. Mallory would prefer not getting wet twice in the same night.

She ducked into a small crevice she found. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, laying on the rocky ground (on an empty stomach, no less), but Mallory chalked it up to living a soft life in Hollywood. She had never even been camping before and realized that she was at a severe disadvantage on Neverland, and not just because it was unknown terrain. Mallory didn’t know the first thing about outdoor survival and wondered if that would be her downfall, not Peter Pan’s little game.

Keeping her sword close to her side, Mallory curled and tried to get as comfortable as possible, using her arm as a pillow. That night of sleep was restless and painful. Mallory was constantly worried that the sun would rise too soon but night here seemed to last unnaturally long. Just when she finally managed to get some sleep, she had to be woken up by the sound of her own stomach grumbling.

The ache of an empty stomach was physically painful. Mallory wanted to keep sleeping, but her throat was so dry she knew she needed to get up and find at least _something_ to consume.

She wished she had put some more planning into this endeavor. At least a water bottle or something, maybe even a sweater, even though she was currently living in a jungle.

She hadn’t dared eat any fruit she came across. Mallory didn’t recognize any of the plants and strictly avoided anything with thorns – she was stupid, but not _that_ stupid. Mallory knew better than to eat or touch anything until she knew its name and whether or not it was edible. She came across a stream and cupped her hands in the freezing cold water. The water was sweet and refreshing, easing the pain in her throat and sending a surge of energy in her system. Mallory wished she had a way to carry some water with her, but since she didn’t, she decided to continue walking alongside the stream.

Mallory didn’t know where she was going. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. She was just waiting for something to happen.

And, of course, it did.

Having upon a clearing, Mallory looked around. A tiny mouse scurried across her feet, making the girl jump in surprise. After calming herself, Mallory took note of how large, how high these trees were. Did jungles have conifers? That didn’t seem right to her.

She walked up to one of the trees, touching the tree trunk. It was rough and sticky to the touch. Pinecones and dead needles crunched beneath her feet. Mallory was just about to leave when she turned around.

Someone was standing right behind her.

Mallory jumped back, uttering a strangled cry as her hand flew to her chest. But the boy just smirked, pleased by her reaction.

“Hello.” Peter Pan said. “Are you ready for your first test?”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

* * *

 

“Test?” Mallory took a _huge_ step back. “You said it was just a game.”  
  
“Same difference.” Pan replied with a careless shrug. His expression was far too pleasant for her to trust.

Mallory continued to eye him with suspicion. “What are you testing me for?”

The boy smiled at her, green eyes twinkling with mischievous glee. “Nothing at all, I swear. But if you’re going to get all caught up with this ‘test’ idea, fine, I’ll give you an answer. I seek to please, after all.”

Mallory raised her eyebrows, throwing him a look of disbelief.

Peter Pan seemed to understand what she was thinking. He just shook his head and smiled. “One day, you’ll understand.”  
  
“Well, I’m not going to be here for that long,” Mallory replied, crossing her arms and watched Pan carefully as he walked away to pick up a rock from beneath some dead needles. “So, what are you testing me on?”

“Bravery,” Pan said, standing up. He tossed the stone between his hands, explaining, “I need to know if you’re really up for this game, Mallory. This isn’t for the faint of heart. That’s why you’re going to collect some fairy dust.”

Mallory almost laughed. Still her words choked on stifled snickers as she said, “Ha, right, because going up against a little fairy is _so_ brave. What are you going to make me do, fight Tinker Bell?”

Peter Pan snorted but didn’t answer right away. Mallory paused, wondering if she unintentionally said something significant. If she did, the boy didn’t tell her. Instead, he said, “Oh, no, nothing like that. If you went up against Tinker Bell, then the game would be over before it got a chance to be fun. I rather prefer you face a challenge where you actually stand a chance at winning.”  
  
“Oh,” she frowned, not liking either implication – of fairies being real and that they were apparently dangerous as well. Was Pan doing her a favor? “Um, thanks.”

“Ah, don’t thank me yet.” Peter Pan held up a finger, wagging it in her face. Mallory swiped at it and glared at his impish grin. “I haven’t even given you your challenge yet.”

“Then spit it out all ready!” Mallory exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air. She was getting impatient with this boy. Where the hell was she supposed to find fairy dust if it didn’t involve fairies? “What am I supposed to do?”

He pointed over her head. “Climb.”

“What?” Mallory spun around, looking up. Her eyes widened in dread; the only thing behind her was the gigantic pine trees. The tips swayed back and forth in the wind, so thin that even a squirrel couldn’t hang on. Her stomach dropped at the sight.

Rendered speechless, Mallory was absolutely petrified and unable to move. That was why she didn’t react when Pan appeared at her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He said, “At the very top of those trees are flowers that collect fairy dust. But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, Mallory. It’s not like you’re afraid of heights or anything.”

Mallory’s throat was as dry as dehydrated ice cream. She tried to swallow, but that just made it worse. She was already in a cold sweat at just the thought of climbing. The boy had gone silent, awaiting her answer with an expectant look. But Mallory couldn’t say anything.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Pan said, squeezing her shoulder in false reassurance. She glanced at him and saw that look of smugness on his face. Oh, Pan knew exactly what he was doing. “Don’t tell me you’re scared. Because if you are, I could always find something a little easier...”

“No!” Incredibly, it was Mallory’s own pride that galvanized her. She shoved him away, taking in a deep, nasally breath before saying, “I’ll do it. I’ll climb the stupid tree.”

Peter had stumbled trying to regain his balance but looked as unperturbed as before. He shook off the blow and gave her a cheerful smile, in a way that told Mallory that she just gave him what he wanted. “Ah, I knew you’d come around! Here, for luck.”

He tossed the stone to her. Mallory dropped her sword in the attempt to catch it, but only ended up looking foolish when she dropped the stone. Embarrassed, Mallory blew the hair out of her face as she bent down and picked up the stone. She examined the entirely unextraordinary gray rock and said, “Why? What does it –?”  
  
When she looked up, Pan was gone. Her shoulders slumped as her question ended on a dull note. “...do?”

Mallory looked around, but the boy had indeed disappeared. How did he do that? Mallory had never heard anything move so swiftly, so quietly. He must be some sort of ninja. Or maybe he had magic powers. Either way, Pan was still dangerous. Tucking the stone into her back pocket, Mallory uttered a sigh of resignation and turned to the tree she was about to overcome.

The bark was sticky when she touched it. The roughness cut into her skin and Mallory regretted not having brought her hiking boots with their grippy treads. The branch was seven feet up in the air and Mallory had to shimmy up the trunk before she could reach it. She was already out of breath by the time she managed to wrap her torso around it.

Mallory looked down and huffed out a breath. Her throat was still dry and she wished she had gotten another drink from the river before attempting this, but since she had already made it up this far, she was in no mood to try again. Her shirt was sticky and gross from having to shimmy up it but she decided to keep it on – not only because the air was chilly but because this island seemed to be inhabited entirely by boys and she wasn’t an idiot when it came to their nature.

Her legs shook as she stood up on the branch to reach the next one up. Mallory nearly tipped forward and fell, but managed to catch herself at the last moment, clutching to the tree with panicky breath.

Mallory looked up. She had more than fifty feet to go. Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, Mallory steeled her nerves and once more reached for the next branch.

The climbing was slow going. In ten minutes, she had climbed only another eight feet before stopping to catch her breath and keep herself from having a mental breakdown. The branches were strong and barely gave beneath her weight, but one wrong move and Mallory knew it would be a short fall to her end.

Mallory was bad at rock climbing, and that was when she had the safety and security of a harness, rope, and a professional spotter taking care of her from the ground. Now she had nothing, and Mallory’s fear was just as bad, if not worse. But she supposed that perhaps that gave her an advantage, even a little bit. She was familiar with this experience, and all that mattered was that her mind believed it was real – both in the past, with the safety, and now, on her own – and she remembered the feeling of finally reaching the top of the rock wall, to brag to Cecily that she did it.

And she was going to do that now. Only this time, she was going to rub it in Pan’s face.

Up and up Mallory went. Several times her grip slipped and she dropped to the branch below. She caught herself each time, and each time came closer and closer to her death. Shirt ruined, favorite jeans ripped and knees skinned, Mallory was thinking less of the fairy dust and more of finally getting back down, to touch solid ground again. Her fear became less debilitating and more exhausting. She didn’t want to be afraid anymore, but every instinct told her that every foot higher she went, the more it was going to hurt when she fell.

It was all Mallory could do to bite her lip and keep from whimpering in fear. Her heart was pounding, both from adrenaline and effort. It made her arms shake, fingers twitch, knees buckle at the wrong moment.

As the branches got thinner, it was getting harder to lift herself up every time. Each time she felt as though she was getting heavier, like she ate five pounds of meat before every reach. But that didn’t make sense. Mallory’s stomach grumpled and cramped for food, something she couldn’t provide. In her scattered thoughts, Mallory wondered if fairy dust was edible, what it would taste like. Would it be like candy? Would it taste like those Pixie Stix? God, Mallory didn’t care if candy was just empty calories, she just needed something in her stomach.

Mallory had twenty feet to go when a voice above her said, “Well, well, well, look at little Mal-Mal go. Oh, is it all right if I call you that?”  
  
She looked up, wiping the sweat from her eyes as she took in Peter leaning against the tree some five feet up. He seemed incredibly at home, forty feet in the air. She let her chin rest on the branch, letting herself catch her breath as she grunted, “No.”

“Aw,” Pan sounded disappointed, although Mallory doubted he was really that upset about it. She knew she had just given him a new way to annoy her, in a way a bully tests insults on their victim to see which one gets the best reaction. “That’s too bad. Mal-Mal sounded so appropriate, especially for you. Cute and simple.”

Mallory grimaced as she lifted herself up, keeping herself from reacting to the implied insult. Pan could try his best, but Mallory had experienced far worst at home. Boys may think they’re clever with their name calling, but they stood no chance to the insidious nature of mean girls and their psychological attacks on another’s self-esteem.

She had been abused in a myriad of ways, courtesy of Jordan and Kaley – while Mallory didn’t have the pleasure of knowing high school, Jordan and Kaley made it easy to figure out. Mallory would get blocked from clubs she used to frequent because the girls tipped off the bouncer, they called the paparazzi whenever Mallory was in town, and were probably the ones trolling Mallory’s profile on various social-media sites, spamming rumors and allegations that made everyone want to Unfriend her. Prank calls in the middle of the night, every date with a cute boy ruined because they would sneak in and ruin it somehow. With those two, she couldn’t catch a break. Who did Peter Pan think she was, to get annoyed over a stupid nickname?

Oh, no, Mallory was an expert at being bullied. If Pan wanted to see her upset, he’d have to try a lot harder than that.

“All right, what do you think of Mal-Pal?” he tried, to no avail. Mallory continued to climb, her efforts belabored with increasing weight as she went. Pan just watched her go past him. “No? How about Mally?”

She had been called far worse, more offensive words that weren’t particularly related to her name. No, Jordan and Riley liked to stick with the classics, calling into question Mallory’s gender, sexual promiscuity and orientation, as any bully worth their salt would. Mallory fancied the idea that she had built up a formidable shield against these insults, liked imagining them bouncing off like the stupid little words they were.

“Come on, you’ve gotta give me something to work with!” Pan called after her after twenty seconds of utter silence. “Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten a nickname before.”

“ _That’s_ what this is about?” Mallory cast down a bewildered look, honestly surprised. She just scoffed and shook her head, reaching for the next branch. “Just leave me alone and we’ll get along fine.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Pan said, only now he was above her again. Mallory did a double take at the sight, almost losing her grip. How did he move like that? No, not a ninja. This definitely had to be magic. “Has anyone ever given you a nickname?”

“No,” Mallory replied, coming to a stop at the branch opposite him. She took a couple seconds to breath before continuing, “I’ve been called a lot of things, Peter Pan, and trust me, they weren’t with the intention of friendly nicknaming.”

“Wow,” his eyebrows shot up. “So I guess you’re one of those freaks who doesn’t have any friends, huh? You know, I figured you for the loner type, all angry and repressed.”

Mallory threw him a dirty look as she stood up, then turned away to hide the red in her cheeks. “Oh, shut up. Just let me get the stupid fairy dust.”

Only this time, as she managed another five feet, Mallory definitely felt the new weight, and it wasn’t her. It seemed as though something had caught onto her clothes. Was the sap weighing her down? No, something in her pockets. She definitely felt it pulling on her leg. Reaching back, Mallory pulled out the stone, which weighed far more than it did originally. Making a look of disgust, she chucked it down, in the general vicinity of where she remembered Pan to be. “And take your stupid luck back, I don’t need it!”

Pan just laughed as the rock soared past his head. Mallory just grumbled to herself and kept going, glad to finally have that weight off.

But it came back shortly after. Mallory was surprised to go back to her pocket and find the rock again. How the hell did it get there? Did Pan sneak it in when she wasn’t looking? Or was it Magic? Either way, she didn’t care and threw it back down.

The third time the stone returned, Mallory knew it wasn’t a fluke. Pan must have enchanted it or something, to get heavier and heavier the higher she went, to make the task already difficult even more so. Maybe he wanted her to die, to watch in thrill as she fell to her death. Honestly, Mallory wouldn’t be surprised if that were the truth.

So instead of getting rid of the stone, Mallory kept it there. She wasn’t going to waste time getting rid of it while she kept climbing. And if she made it to the flowers with the rock, then all the better.

It had to weigh at least ten pounds by time she reached the flowers, and by then Mallory had to hold it in her hands to keep it from pulling her pants down. At least it gave her an anchor to keep her arms from slipping as she hauled her chest over another high, thin branch. The fear had almost gone now, thanks to her determination and the distraction Pan provided.

She saw the flowers, facing the sky. Purple, shaped like lily’s, and their insides glowing yellow-orange. Her first instinct was to touch it, and touch it she did. Mallory reached inside the flower, on her tip toes to reach the flowers hanging over her head.

What felt like glitter met her finger tips. She pulled out her hand, saw the golden dust lacing her fingers. Bizarrely, it made a sound when she rubbed it across her skin. A soft twinkling noise, like wind chimes or the light strings of a harp. It was one of the most beautiful and surreal things Mallory had every experienced, and she just kept rubbing her fingers together to hear more of it.

But what to carry the dust in?

Mallory assumed that Pan wanted actual samples, and she didn’t really have deep pockets to put it in. Yet when she reached for her pockets and pulled out the rock, it wasn’t a rock anymore – but rather a small pouch, like for keeping a quartz rock in.

Well, Pan certainly had everything all planned out, didn’t he? Making a face to herself, Mallory pinched more dust from the flowers and dropped it into the pouch. She repeated this process until the little bag was almost full, then pulled the string to close it. The string made a giant loop, making it easy to just wrap it around her neck.

Mallory was just about to congratulate herself on a job well done. Then she looked down.

Vertigo hit her like a steam engine. In an instant she was breathless as the world swayed back and forth beneath her – whether it was the wind or just in her head, it didn’t matter.

She hugged the tree, the branch bending beneath her feet. Looking up didn’t help much, either; another twelve feet and the tip of the tree met the sky. Mallory was too scared to move, she could feel her heart slam against her chest, heard it in the wood against her ear.

After having climbed so far up without a single look down, Mallory realized that this was all that she was going to be doing now; looking down. But the very sight of that great distance made her want to throw up. At least in rock climbing, once you climbed to the top, you could just swing back down without having to guess your footwork backwards. How was she going to reach the distance between branches that was taller than she was?

 _I want to go home_. Mallory squeezed her eyes shut, since this seemed to be the only logical conclusion to the situation. _I just want this to be over. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go home!_

A long moment passed where she heard nothing but wind blowing and distant animal calls. Peter Pan had disappeared once again. She imagined he’d be waiting at the bottom, either to see her break her neck or reach the ground and burst into tears. Would it bother him to have to take the fairy dust from a dead body than a live girl?

Mallory hoped the boy would have a little more decency than that, but Peter Pan was a conundrum she could barely wrap her head around.

A minute passed, then another. With no hope of rescue, Mallory knew that the only way to get down was to _make_ herself get back down. Her stomach growled in protest, demanding a meal before starting the descent. But there wasn’t a handy fast food restaurant fifty feet in the air, so Mallory had to go without.

And thus began her slow and cautious descent. Climbing down was harder than climbing up; not because of effort, but because one wrong misplaced foot or overbalanced landing and Mallory would tumble beyond the branches.

Yet she surprised herself by managing to get halfway down the tree in less time than it took to climb it. Although it was still a height that could kill her, Mallory didn’t worry so much. In fact, she was smiling despite her deep-seated fear. Crouching on a thicker branch, she gauged the distance between her and the one below before sliding her feet off, still clinging to the wood with her hands.

But when Mallory dropped so she was hanging from her two hands, she was horrified to discover that completely extended, she was not tall enough to reach the branch right beneath her. It had to be no more than a foot, but that was enough to make the wrong move.

Exhausted, Mallory didn’t have the energy to just hang there and think out her next move. Before she could so much as cry out, the bark slipped past her sweaty fingers and she dropped.

For one hopeful second, her feet met the branch. The second right after, however, came with the awful sound of wood snapping and her breaking through.

Mallory screamed as she plummeted, hitting branches and tree trunk along the way. Her arms spun wildly, searching for anything to grab onto, but only ended up hurting herself further.

She bounced off a large fan of needles and her fall was briefly interrupted and diverted in another direction. Her back hit another branch, tossing her forward and Mallory gasped as she finally managed to grab hold of a limb before continuing her descent.

The blow left her winded and slumped over. It took Mallory a moment to regain her composure. She pulled herself up and looked down.

Twelve feet from the ground. So close.

Mallory was shaking so hard she couldn’t breathe. Eventually, she managed to calm down long enough to descend the last few meters to the ground, before collapsing in a heap on the dead needles, panting and trying not to cry.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” came a cheerful voice. Mallory looked up at Pan, who was smiling down at her with his hands behind her back.

She grimaced and ripped the pouch of fairy dust from her neck, throwing it at his feet. “Here’s your stupid fairy dust.”

Bending down to pick it up, Peter Pan just smirked at her. If anything, he seemed pretty pleased with the entire event, like seeing her fall thirty feet, come _this close_ to death, was entirely worth it. If this was how Pan was going start out, Mallory hated to think of what else he had in mind for their stupid game.

“Well done,” he said, tossing the bag in his hand before tucking it inside his collar. “You know, for a second there, I really thought you were a goner.”

“You seem real torn up about it,” Mallory muttered, wondering just how sadistic one had to be to disregard life in such a way. No wonder the Lost Boys were hunting her down like an animal – they probably saw her as nothing more than that.

“Those girlish screams for help were quite impressive,” Pan added, as though he never heard her. He waved his hand in the air. “The whole island could hear you. Do you practice your screams, Mallory, or are you just a natural?”

“Shut up,” Mallory winced as she picked herself up, noting all the sore points on her body. That fall really did a number on her, Mallory was surprised she didn’t have a broken bone. Even as she tried to stand up tall and look somewhat dignified, she nearly keeled over again as her stomach growled, so ferociously that she felt in her throat. “Ugh...”

Pan tilted his head, startled by the noise. “What was that? Your stomach?”

Mallory clutched her belly, trying not to look weak but figuring that was a moot point by now. “Um, yeah.”

He just shook his head, like this was funny, being starving or something. “Silly girl, why haven’t you eaten anything? Is that what girls do these days, not eat anymore?”

Mallory was sure _some_ prescribed to that kind of diet, but she was not one of them. The idea was terribly sad and not something to be dealing with when trapped on an island full of boys. “Like I have a choice. I can’t eat anything here. It’s probably poisonous or trying to kill me, too.”

“You don’t _hunt_ for food in Neverland!” Pan exclaimed, throwing his head back and laughing. Mallory just scowled further, unhappy that her pain was only fueling his amusement. “Honestly, you girls are so stupid.”

“Well, how _else_ do you get food here?” she demanded.

“You think it.” Pan just shrugged his shoulders, like the answer was obvious and she was stupid for not being able to figure out herself. Seeing her disbelieving look, he held up his hands and said, “Come on, Mally, this is Neverland. Try it yourself.”

Mallory continued to cast Pan a suspicious look, then walked past him and towards the river. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself in front of him, instead deciding to wash herself up and somehow salvage her tree-sap-covered clothes.

She stuck her hands in the stream and washed her red and stinging palms. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pan throw up his hands and saying: “Fine, go and starve. I am sure that stubbornness will do wonders for your brother.”

Mallory whipped around to fire off a comeback, but her voice died in her throat when she saw that Peter Pan had once again vanished into thin air.

Oh, that’s convenient. Disappear so you can always have the last word.

On the bright side, now she could attempt his advice. Mallory didn’t want to hear him rubbing I-Told-You-So in her face, or laughing at her for being so gullible and stupid.

Knees in the riverbed, she paused to let the cool water soothe her aching joints. Then taking a deep breath, Mallory closed her eyes and thought hard. _I wish for..._

Mallory was so hungry she could devour two whole pepperoni pizzas. But would the magic here allow that? Was it really being controlled by Pan, was he really that powerful? Mallory thought it was just bravado, but what if she was wrong? Either way, this entire place seemed so far away from civilization that ovens probably weren’t even a thing here.

So instead, Mallory thought of an apple. A juicy, crisp green apple, her favorite. Might as well try something simple.

Something cool touched her hand. The sudden weight made Mallory open her eyes and look down. In the palm of her hand was a bright, shiny apple, perfectly round and still had a stem with a leaf attached, as though it had just been plucked from a tree.

No way. Mallory just stared at the apple, astonished. Then she looked around, wondering if Pan was hiding behind the trees. This had to be some elaborate prank. Since when was _wishing_ food into existence a thing? For all she knew, this apple was poisoned.

But how would Peter Pan have guessed she would wish for an apple? Of all the foods Mallory could’ve picked, there was no way he could have accurately predicted which one.

There was only one way to find out for sure.

Mallory kept her eyes open, just in case. Pan had a way of moving silently, and she wanted to make sure that this magic thing was him trying to pull a fast one. Standing up, she got out of the water and sat on the rocky shore, focusing on a slab of rock beside her. Magic may be real – it may be powerful – but that didn’t mean it could summon restaurant food out of thin air. But all it took was a thought.

First Mallory smelled it. Then before her appeared a large cardboard box, a red image of a pirate ship on its cover. Mallory had never heard of _Davy Jone’s Pizzeria_ , but the smell of baked dough, cheese, and tomato sauce had her salivating like a basset hound.

Opening the box, Mallory was pleased to discover the pepperoni-and-sausage covered pie. She didn’t even think of the sausage, yet whatever magic wish power was out there, it knew her subconscious desires.

Mallory ate the pizza, its cheese still melting, the entire box steaming and filling the air with the aroma. The warmth of the food made her forget about how wet and cold and dirty she felt.

She surprised herself by eating the entire pizza, without a second thought as to calories or fat content – her stomach was happy, and that made Mallory happy.

And then she wondered how powerful this wish thing was.

Of course, she got overexcited. The first thing she tried after eating was wishing herself home, so excited by it that she didn’t even consider the consequences if it worked – what would happen to Matthias if she left? For a brief second, Mallory didn’t care. This island was a nightmare and she didn’t want to spend another second here.

But even as she closed her eyes and thought of home, Mallory already knew it wouldn’t work. Perhaps it was because of the deal she made with Pan, or that she knew in her heart that it would be irresponsible of her to leave, to abandon her quest so soon. Even if she wanted to go home, she still had a job to do.

The ground beneath her didn’t change. The smell of pizza didn’t go away; neither did humid jungle air or the sound of the bubbling river. Shoulders slumping, Mallory sighed and leaned against the rock, the exhaustion returning. Perhaps the magic only worked if her heart was truly into it. Or maybe Pan didn’t want her to leave, which was as valid an answer as any.

In no state to continue exploring or find a place to rest, Mallory set up camp beneath the pine trees. She tried to wish a fire to life, but magic or no, the flames needed kindling, so Mallory created a circle of rocks and threw some sticks, dead needles, and the pizza box to help keep the fire going. She dried off her clothes in front of the fire, deciding not to wish for new clothes because that meant she’d have to change into them – and Mallory did not like the idea of walking around in her underwear, even for a few seconds, on the off chance that Lost Boys or Peter Pan (or both) will walk in on her mid-change.

And as she warmed up, Mallory looked up at the sky, the stars, and the moon that never seemed to move from its spot. While it provided a little bit of light, there was certainly something to be desired and Mallory was starting to miss daylight. Maybe at least she could see without needing fire or a flashlight.

Wishing for a pillow and sleeping bag (since wishing for a five star hotel yielded no results), Mallory tucked herself in underneath the dark blue sky, wondering if the sun would ever rise again.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

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Mallory woke up to the still night sky, well slept but ultimately still stiff and sore from last night’s (or whatever) previous activity. It took her five whole minutes just to get up, her bones so reluctant to move.

But the urgency to find her brother was enough to give Mallory the strength she needed to rise.

Her arms were covered in bug bites, as were her legs. Apparently the sleeping bag wasn’t as protective as she thought. Maybe Mallory should’ve wished for a tent after all.

The fire pit was just a small pile of ash now. Mallory didn’t bother to restart it as she did not plan to stay here. Picking up her sword, Mallory looked around for the apple she still had yet to eat. She was sure she had put it close by, to save for later...

Mallory turned to her sleeping bag, the last place she remembered having the apple. But _that_ was gone, too. There was only a patch of smooth ground left behind, as though neither the bag nor the pillow ever existed.

“Huh,” Mallory said to herself, scratching the back of her head. Well, at least now she knew that wishes weren’t permanent – before attempting to wish for new clothes.

In need of something more sustainable, Mallory decided that from now on she would craft her own tools, realizing that wishes meant little if she could not keep them.

Her hands were covered with rough scabs and lesions, causing great pain when Mallory had to pick up her sword. But she grit her teeth and suffered through it. She couldn’t risk the danger of dropping her sword and leaving herself defenseless.

Mallory continued her journey down the river, sticking close to a water source. It seemed unnecessary, especially if she could just wish for food and eat it right away, but she couldn’t hold on to a water bottle for very long. The river was also the only geographical feature she could orient herself with, and she feared getting lost if she strayed too far from it.

The river meandered through the woods, and Mallory followed it, hoping to come across a more significant landmark but found herself walking aimlessly for what felt like eons. Mallory felt like a sitting duck, all alone amongst the trees – like the only thing she could expect was the next task in Pan’s game, that her location meant nothing so long as she could play.

That’s when Mallory realized she was being followed.

The signs weren’t obvious. Actually, Mallory wouldn’t known what they were if she hadn’t heard the twig snap behind her and sent off every scary movie vibe in her brain. She looked around, only to see nothing but bushes and trees. She couldn’t hear anything over the sounds of birdsong and distant animal calls, the wind blowing through the treetops, typical jungle noises.

But as she continued, Mallory was suddenly very aware of the acute feeling of being watched. There was no logical reason to why she felt this way – all she knew was that there was a silent ringing in her head, accompanied by the hair rising on her skin and the need to look around again.

This time, she saw a shadow.

Mallory stopped dead in her tracks, her heart freezing in her chest. She looked harder into the forest, the dark shadows making it difficult to discern the traits of a psychotic killer. Getting nervous, she called out, “Pan, is that you?”

It was the first person she could think of – he would get a real laugh out of scaring her, wouldn’t he? But Mallory didn’t receive a single response and she started to wonder if it was even Pan at all, or rather something more sinister.

Raising her sword, Mallory steeled her nerves and demanded, “Come on, out, I know you’re there. Show your face! D-don’t make me use this...!”

Silence.

Mallory was breathing hard. She shifted back on her feet, keeping her sword in the air, scanning the area to her left and right. Was she just imagining things? Mallory knew something was out there, she wasn’t going crazy...

Was she?

The girl turned around, just in time to see the glimmer in the dark.

It could have been anything. The light reflecting off the eye of a cat prowling in the darkness, hitting a wet leaf dripping water, or some other shiny object in the forest.

Like a dagger being drawn from it’s sheathe.

The second it took for her to realize what was going on was the one that probably saved her life. Mallory managed to stumble away just in time for a figure to burst forth from the leaves and branches, landing a few feet away from her and slashing the air she had been standing in only a moment before.

Mallory barely had time to scream before the figure, dressed in a dark hood and cloak, launched at her again.

This time, she couldn’t move fast enough before a heavy hand threw her down and she was suddenly in the dirt, on her back and a knee pinning her chest down. Mallory gasped for air, the breath knocked out of her.

The attacker loomed over Mallory, hooded face over hers, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Mallory could make out his features. It wasn’t Pan, but rather another boy, with a long angular face covered in dirt. She saw the blond hair and the long scar across his face. Mallory knew what he was without needing to ask – he was a Lost Boy.

She struggled underneath his weight but couldn’t kick him off. He was taller than her, and heavier despite his gaunt look. Mallory tried to scream but he had clamped a hand over her mouth, squeezing so hard that his nails dug into her skin.

Having a terrifyingly strong grip on her face, the Lost Boy turned Mallory’s head to get a more better view of her jugular. He seemed to be eyeing the vein in her neck, pulsing rapidly in time to her fear. Mallory’s arms thrashed, scrambling for anything to use as a weapon, the sword having been knocked from her hand.

He raised his dagger in the air, face entirely expressionless as he prepared for the kill.

Eyes widening, Mallory suddenly understood that if she didn’t do something _now_ , this might very well be her end.

So she grabbed the first thing her fingers could touch and threw it.

That happened to be loose dirt – and it hit the Lost Boy right in his eyes.

The Lost Boy recoiled, crying out in pain. The hand on her face released to go to his own, trying to brush away the foreign substances from his eyes – and was completely vulnerable when Mallory threw her fist, catching the Boy across the chin and throwing him off of her.

She rushed to her feet, grabbing the fallen sword and taking off in a full sprint. Sure, Mallory could’ve taken the boy on, now that she had the advantage, but she was not happy with the idea of a fight to the death, and was quite unwilling to make her first kill a boy roughly the same age as herself.

Taking off in a random direction, Mallory completely forgot her priority to stay near the river – she just wanted to get away, far away, from the Lost Boy who seemed particularly determined to kill her. In fact, she could hear him giving chase behind her.

Oh, god. Her heart was already under so much pressure, the added fear of getting caught was almost beyond her capacity.

This felt entirely all too familiar, but this Lost Boy was persistent – and faster than her. Mallory barely managed to stay ahead, doing everything she could; pulling back branches and letting them smack in his face, sticking to tight corners, and getting through smaller openings in the brush that would take her larger pursuer more time to get through.

But it wasn’t quite enough. Mallory had no idea how long she was running; her lungs felt like they were filled with lava and her legs were aching with sore muscles. But when she hit a cleared dirt path, she knew that she was not going to win this race. Sure, maybe it would easier to run on the trail, but the Lost Boy had already proven to be a faster runner, and that was through thick jungle terrain. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

So Mallory leaped across the divide and tore back into the woods again. A stray vine nearly yanked her sword out of her hand again, but she managed to hang on, in the process tripping over a root and falling on her side.

Panting, legs numb and lungs on fire, Mallory couldn’t even pick herself up again, her body acting against her wishes and taking this time to go into recuperation. She was shaking all over from the adrenaline, and even the grip on her sword couldn’t keep it steady. Mallory knew if she stayed like this, she would be a sitting duck, but as her heart pounded in her ears and she watched the bushes behind her, waiting for the Lost Boy who never appeared.

The expectation left her bewildered. Mallory looked around, wondering if she missed something. Had he not seen her, had he already gone by? Somehow, she thought this was unlikely. Surely Mallory would have noticed.

But the woods had gone silent. Her breathing was so loud Mallory thought she might have missed something, but as she continued to look around, she still didn’t see anything. Where did he go? Did he just give up?

Mallory didn’t think so. He was bigger, stronger than her. He wouldn’t give up on the kill so easily. Maybe he...tripped or something.

Whatever it was, the Lost Boy had disappeared.

Somehow, this felt even worse.

Finally, Mallory managed to get back onto her feet, stepping carefully across the ground and trying to make as little noise as possible. She was still under the impression that she was being hunted, and acted accordingly. Maybe the Lost Boy was just playing with her.

Creeping around a large tree, Mallory saw a flicker in a bush to her right when her foot got hooked on something. Thinking it was a vine or weed caught around her ankle, Mallory looked down. She didn’t consider stopping moving before seeing that the thing her foot was in was not a plant at all – but rather braided rope.

“Aw, crap,” Mallory muttered as her foot landed on the ground, pulling the rope from its catch.

_FWACK!_

Mallory let out a cry as the ground left her feet and she was flipped upside down and snapped into the air. She bounced up and down as the rope, tied to a tree, brought her up. She waved her arms helplessly, trying to reach her sword on the ground, mere feet away.

Her ankle felt as though it might be sprained, no thanks to the sudden jerk in movement and now supporting the entirety of her body weight.

No amount of stretching could get Mallory any closer to the ground. If she could only get her sword somehow, she could cut herself free...

And that’s when she heard the sound of laughter.

Mallory looked up (rather, down), at the Lost Boy as he dropped down from a tree. How the hell did he get up there in the first place? Mallory stared at him, dread filling her stomach as she saw the smile pull across the Boy’s scared face. He said to her, “Well, looks like the mouse is caught in a trap. You shouldn’t have run, girl.”

“Yeah, because dying was the much more pleasant alternative!” Mallory shouted, but it was hard to sound intimidating when she was hanging upside down and there was blood rushing into her head. The world was starting to spin. “Is that what you’re going to do now, Scarface?”  
  
“No,” the Boy tilted his head, seeming to analyze the situation Mallory was in. She had to pull down (up) on her shirt to keep it from slipping past her chest and revealing too much. “I think I’ll let the other guys decide what to do with you.”

“ _What_ other guys?” Mallory asked, wondering if there was a larger group of Lost Boys out there, waiting to pick up where this one left off. Great. As if one wasn’t enough.

But the Lost Boy just smiled at her. “You’ll see.”

And with that, he disappeared into the darkness.

“Wait,” Mallory didn’t expect him to leave so soon, with so few answers. She extended an arm, wishing she could stop him. “Come back! What do you mean?”

But he was gone. Mallory scowled and crossed her arms, frustrated with the situation she was in. How the hell was she going to get down? And who else would be coming here? Were there more Lost Boys coming?

As if to answer that question, Mallory could hear distant cries. Human cries, whoops and shouts of some sort of parade. It was quickly followed by the sound of numerous bodies crashing through the undergrowth, heading straight towards Mallory’s direction. She turned, swallowing and hoping that maybe these Lost Boys would be a bit more sympathetic to her cause.

Out from between the trees came a hunting party – not of boys, but off full grown men, dressed in loincloths and skulls painted on their faces. With shaved heads and wielding spears straight out of an _Indiana Jones_ movie, Mallory was had the feeling that these guys weren’t Lost Boys. They spoke in a harsh, guttural language that seemed to be more animal noises than anything human sounding. They danced around Mallory, poking and prodding at her with their sticks and seeming to decide whether or not she was a good catch.

“Hey, hey, stop that!” Mallory swatted at the sharp spears pointing at her. “I’m not an animal, let me down!”

The hunting party exchanged looks, going silent for a second before shrugging their shoulders in unison and one swiping his spear at her leg. Instead of hitting her, the man cut the rope and Mallory crashed into the ground, landing flat on her back. “Ow! Jeez, you could’ve given me a warning or something – hey!”

Before Mallory could even get a chance to stand up, two of the hunting party had her by the arms and hauled her to her feet. She expected them to let go once she had her balance, but they didn’t; instead, the two men dragged her along behind them, feet dragging in the dirt. She watched as another picked up her fallen sword, eyeing the hammered blade with awe. It was certainly much nicer than the spears made out of rocks and sticks they had.

She tried to talk to these guys, but either they didn’t understand or they were ignoring her. Probably both, as none of the men paid her any mind as she complained about her arms being pulled, wanting her sword back, stop sniffing her hair, etc, etc.

“Where are you even taking me?” she demanded, looking over her shoulder at the two men who seemed to be leading the group. None of this felt right to her, and she had a feeling that whatever lay ahead was going to be bad news. “Who’s in charge here? Is Peter Pan making you do this?”

At the name ‘Peter Pan’, the hunting party froze for a second, looked at her in what could only be described as shock (probably the only thing Mallory understood from them), which was then quickly followed by shouting and yelling amongst them. It seemed to be an argument, and the word ‘Pan’ came up a lot. Perhaps they knew what she was talking about.

If they did, they did not consult Mallory on her opinion of the boy, which was very low. Their argument, whatever it was about, continued for the next twenty minutes, and only ended when the hunting party and their apparent catch finally reached their destination at the top of a steep hill – Mallory could hear the sounds of what seemed to be a celebration, a party of some sort. She guessed a bonfire, from the smell of burning wood and smoked meat.

The hunting party came into a clearing and the sound suddenly became much louder. Because her back was facing the direction they were going in, Mallory had to look over her shoulder to see what was going on. Oh, yes, it was a bonfire all right, with men and women in rough furs and tribal paint dancing around it and singing in their language.

That was when Mallory remembered something from the story of Peter Pan she had read to Cecily the other night – Neverland was also home not just to Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, but to the Indians who lived there as well. But these guys did not resemble the Indians, either in the book or the movie, in their actions or their words, or even the camp that they lived in.

They seemed to live in structures made of bamboo and bark, like makeshift forts and lean-tos, with many tanning racks and huge logs of wood sticking out of the ground, sharpened at the ends to points and aimed outwards in defense. In front of the bonfire was a long table made of an assortment of long, flat rocks, and sitting at them were what Mallory assumed to be the leaders of this tribe of natives. The most prominent one was sitting on a throne made of carved wood and... _animal skulls_? Wow, quite a fashion statement.

The hunting party set her down in front of this table, and those sitting leaned forward to look at her. The dancing behind them suddenly stopped as the man on the throne suddenly stood, arms raised and palms out. Mallory didn’t realize how big he was until now, with massive shoulders and arms thick as tree trunks. He had unique facial markings, what looked like eyes painted on his cheeks and forehead. This pattern extended down his arms and chest, giving the psychedelic feeling of always being watched even when the man wasn’t looking directly at her. Mallory was sure the design was to symbolize something, but at the moment she was too scared to really think straight.

The silence stretched as the leader, Eye Man (Mallory wasn’t very good with nicknames) considered Mallory. She hoped that he would understand that she did not want to hurt any of them; rather, she would like to run very far away from here. Hopefully, they would not kill her for walking into their trap.

Finally, Eye Man shouted something to his audience, from the tone of it approval. Cheers filled the air and people thrust their fists into the air, some wielding spears, others wielding eating utensils or legs of meat. Whatever he just said, it must have been good.

Mallory was lifted up once more and for a second she was afraid they were going to kill her, but instead the hunting party brought her around the table to sit beside the Eye Man. Even as she was made comfortable, food was suddenly placed in front of her by other natives bringing in rock-platters of fruit and vegetables. One woman offered her an apple, which Mallory eyed suspiciously before taking. She was aware that everyone at the dinner table, as it were, was looking at her, waiting for her to do something.

But she hesitated, not sure what they wanted for her. Then Eye Man, on his throne, tapped Mallory on her shoulder, took the apple from her hand, and pressed it against her mouth. She tried to jerk her head away, but stopped herself at the last second. It hit her like a freight train.

So Mallory opened her mouth and bit into the apple. Everyone waited until she swallowed to raise their hands up into the air again and cheer. So, they wanted her to eat. Mallory could live with that.

Even water was provided, which she hungrily devoured. Pizza was good, but nothing could beat the fresh food provided here. Even the apples felt more solid in her stomach, something the wish-obtained food did not quite provide for Mallory. Somehow, these natives had pears, peaches, and grapes, food she would not expect to find on an island here.

The food in her stomach put Mallory in a good mood. She was completely oblivious to the fact that they had another guest until he spoke right beside her.

“Having a good time?” the boy said, head leaning on his fist. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Mallory jerked at the sight of him, spitting out her food. “ _Pan?!_ What the hell – what are you doing here?”

He raised his hands into the air, rolling his eyes as though the answer were obvious. “I’m here for the merrymaking, of course, why else? It’s not every day the Polekele people get a feast as great as this!”

“Right,” Mallory immediately sensed something was off. Of course, that was because Pan was having a good time, and whenever he was in a good mood, it was always at someone else’s expense. “What did you mean ‘enjoy it while it lasts’?”

“I don’t know, Mal, you tell me,” Peter Pan shrugged, dusting off the front of his green shirt and leaning back to prop his feet up on the rock table. He tucked his arms behind his head and pointed his nose to the dark sky. “Why would they give a complete stranger – a trespasser, in fact – their best food?”

“Um, good, old-fashioned generosity?” Mallory suggested with a shrug of her shoulders. Pan looked far too relaxed to make her feel the same. But the idea didn’t seem so wrong – weren’t there cultures in the real world who practiced sacred hospitality? “It’s not completely unreasonable, surely there are people like that in the real world –”

“Ah!” Peter Pan shot up a finger, throwing it in her face. He threw her a knowing look. “But that is where you’re wrong. Tell me, Mal, is Neverland part of the real world?”

“I, uh...” Mallory would have pushed aside his hand had she a reliable comeback, but she didn’t. It was her own logical nature that had her rethinking about this, and she took that second to look around. She frowned when she noticed how much food there was still left on the table, practically untouched except for what was right in front of her. “Hey...they’re not eating any of it...why aren’t they eating?”

This didn’t mesh well with the fact that this food was also top quality – who would give a stranger their best food and _not_ eat it as well? A terror hit Mallory and she clutched her throat, “Oh, my god, did they poison me?”

Peter Pan laughed, sitting upright to grab his stomach. Apparently, the expression on her face must have been quite a sight. “Oh, ha! The Polekele tribe only uses their poison in their blowdarts, not in their food. They wouldn’t put it to such waste!”

“Then why...?” Mallory couldn’t understand what was going on. She was still eating the grapes in her hand, even after the possibility of them being poisoned. So what? She was hungry. “What’s going on, Pan? What are they going to do?”

Instead of answer, Pan looked up. Wondering what had gotten his attention, Mallory looked around. The hunting tribe from earlier had returned, on their shoulders carrying a gigantic cauldron – which had her wondering where they got it from. It wasn’t like they owned anything else made out of wrought iron metal.

“What’s _that_ for?” Mallory stared as the hunting tribe set the pot down on two spikes of bamboo placed on either side of the bonfire. Water sloshed over the lip of the cauldron, sizzling as it came into contact with the flames. “What the hell are they going to be cooking that’s so big?”

The two of them continued to watch as other tribe members walked up to the fire and threw in their food – some of it vegetables, other meat, and what appeared to be spices ground up into flakes. The water was starting to boil, the heat of the bonfire turning the bottom of the cauldron red hot.

Even as Mallory tried to piece together what was going on, a bunch of young girls, perhaps ten or eleven, came around the table. Mallory didn’t notice them until one put her hands over her head, making Mallory jump as something heavy fell over her neck. She looked down, surprised, at the necklace of onions.

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks...” Mallory said, attempting to take it off, but the girl gently pushed her hands away, long enough for another girl to put a wreath of leaves and flowers on Mallory’s head. “Seriously, what is this for?”

Pan just seemed to find it all hilarious. Apparently the onion-and-flower combo wasn’t working out. “Well, that is quite a look, Mallory. It really brings out your eyes.”

Mallory just punched him in the shoulder. “Just tell me what’s going on, Pan. I know you know!”

“What do you think?” Pan eased away from her. The little girls giggled at their interaction and Mallory felt her face heat up – she doubted the girls could understand their conversation, and were completely misinterpreting their actions. “They’re having you for dinner!”

“Do they do this for all their guests?” Mallory asked as one of the little girls got up on her tip toes to place a wreath on Peter Pan’s head. His was devoid of flowers, seeming to be made of ivy – Mallory was considering to trade with him.

“I believe so, yes,”

“I mentioned your name to them earlier,” she pointed at the hunting party now joining the dance around the bonfire. “They didn’t understand anything else I said, but your name made them all angry. Do they not like you or something?”

“I have a rather...” Pan made a face, tilting his head as he considered the question. His blond hair was turned red by the rising flames in front of them, green eyes to gold. “ _interesting_ relationship with the Polekele tribe. Territory conflicts, food supply, noise level, just the usual. I’m actually here on a business trip.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something Peter Pan would do,” Mallory snorted, rolling her eyes and popping a grape into her mouth. She had a feeling he was lying to her, or at least severely understating the circumstances. “He goes on business trips.”

“Except these kinds are fun,” Pan threw her a wolfish grin. He turned his attention back to the fire. “Oh, look, they’re getting ready for the main course!”

“Main course?” Mallory frowned. She didn’t see any other food being brought out, although she was suddenly aware that the beating drums were going faster now. “What is it?”

“Haven’t you already figured it out?” Pan asked, his gaze falling back on her. They pierced her with something far deeper than just plain old mischievous – but rather something deeper, darker, something that made Mallory hitch her breath and curl away like a frightened animal. “Why do you think they paint skulls on their faces?”

The intensity in Pan’s gaze made it impossible for her to look away. “They’re having _you_ , Mallory.”

Suddenly, two giant hands grabbed Mallory’s shoulders and hauled her into the air.

“No, let me go!” She cried out in surprise as her hands were suddenly tied behind her back and she was carried over the table, back into the hunting party’s hands. They dragged her to the fire, which heat was far more intense up close than by the table. “Let go of me!”

But there was nothing she could do. It wasn’t until then that Mallory finally grasped what Pan had been trying to tell her this whole time.

The Polekele were cannibals.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

* * *

 

 

“Pan!” Mallory shouted, the only thing she could think of at the moment. Who else knew what was going on? But the boy just waved at her, as if she were simply being brought on stage to give a speech, not about to be thrown into a cauldron full of boiling water.

Mallory dug her feet into the ground, pulling away from the men tugging on her arms. She twisted and pulled and struggled for all she was worth, but these guys were far stronger.

She tried everything she could think of. Shouting, screaming, trying to convince these people that she wasn’t good eating. That she was poison, she was had more fat than meat, she cause indigestion. Either the Polekele didn’t understand her or didn’t care – all they saw was a meal about to be cooked.

There was a second of utter hopelessness where she was dragged closer and closer towards the cauldron. She could feel the heat at her back. Pan had his up feet on the rock table, popping grapes in his mouth like popcorn.

That’s when her pocket started to play _Yakety Sax_.

The Polekele came to an abrupt stop, looking around in surprise. The pounding drums and chanting silenced all at once as the warriors turned their gaze to Mallory, who herself was looking down at her pants.

Her phone was ringing.

Still stunned, the warriors did nothing as Mallory pulled her arm from one grip to reach into her pocket and bring out the cell phone, its screen glowing bright.

There was a collective gasp and the warriors jumped away from her – staring at the piece of tech in her hand.

Mallory was so surprised that she still her phone that she didn’t notice the Polekele reaching for their spears. How the hell was this thing still working? After the third or fourth time in the water, Mallory would’ve figured this thing to be long dead by now. So she, of course, answered it, “Um...hello?”

“ _Malzipan!_ ” Cecily shouted from the other end, her voice crackling from bad reception. Not too bad, considering there wasn’t a cell tower in sight. “Where the hell are you?”

She was so loud that the speaker screeched. Her voice was easily heard by everyone at the bonfire, making the Polekele shift and murmur, moving around to get a better look at the disembodied voice.

“Cecily, now’s not a good time!” Mallory hissed into the receiver, ducking her head and looking around for an exit route. But she was surrounded on all sides and felt incredibly exposed at the center of attention. The Polekele were looking far too anxious for Mallory’s liking. Would they attack because of her phone? “I can’t talk right now, it’s not safe...”

“ _What do you mean, it’s not safe_?” Cecily asked, still shouting. “ _Are you all right? What happened? No one’s seen you in_ days _\- oh, my god, were you kidnapped? Who took you?_ ”

Mallory’s eyes flicked to Pan, instinctively answered Cecily’s question. He had no moved from his spot beside the giant Bone Throne and just smirked at her, quirking an eyebrow when their gazes met. He was waiting for her to do something, to entertain him.

That’s when Mallory looked at her phone, giving it some new thought. If Pan wanted a show, then he was going to get one.

“Wait, wait, Cecily!” Mallory whispered, bringing the phone back to her ear. Her breathing became panicky with a new surge of excitement. “Don’t go! You can help me!”  
  
 “ _What? How_?”

“Remember the Karaoke competition on my birthday?” Mallory asked, praying that Cecily managed to regain _some_ of her memories made when drunk. “You had three shots of tequila and got up on stage, in front of a hundred people, drunk out of your mind? You started to sing your favorite song! Remember what it was?”

The warriors had regained their senses and were now approaching Mallory with spears raised. She crossed her fingers, squeezing her eyes shut as she waited for Cecily’s answer.

“ _Don’t Stop Believing, by Journey?_ ”

Other hunters and armed men came up from behind her. Mallory had to keep going around in a circle to keep an eye on them. She was terrified that one might jump on her when her back was turned. She stuck her arm out at them, waving the glowing screen at the Polekele’s faces. It didn’t hold them off for too long.

“That’s it, yes!” Mallory cried, jumping up and down in delight. She never thought she could count on Cecily before.

“ _From the top_?”

“From the top,” Mallory confirmed.

She whipped around, just as a warrior tried jabbing his speak. Before the tip could scratch Mallory’s jeans, sound erupted from her phone.

“ _JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL!_ ” Cecily belted at the top of her lungs, startling the warrior so bad that he fell back on his loinclothed butt. “ _LIVIN’ IN A LONELY WORLD!”_

“Yes, that’s it!” Mallory cried, turning the speaker on the other warriors. They jumped back at Cecily’s screeching voice. Mallory couldn’t imagine what the Polekele were thinking at the moment – did they think the phone some sort of demon-possessed machine? A totem to the gods? Mallory didn’t think the last one could be true, since Cecily’s voice was hardly angelic and completely off-tune, but then again, maybe she was an angry god, and these guys had no idea what they were in for.

“ _SHE TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOIN’ ANYWHERE!_ ” Cecily kept going, at least managing to hit all the notes at the right beat. Her voice sent the Polekele back, and they dared not come closer the longer she sang. Cecily’s voice had provided Mallory a wonderful, if temporary, shield against the cannibals. “ _JUST A CITY BOY..._ ”

Mallory could even hear the music in her head, familiar enough with the song to know the lyrics herself. She didn’t exactly expect Cecily to mimic the guitar solo, but it was just as well. The Polekele didn’t know what to do with a talking person inside what at best could be described as a hunk of metal.

Mallory knew it wouldn’t last too long though. The man on the Bone Throne was getting angry his men weren’t doing anything. He himself had stood up, was grabbing his own spear and was stepping over the table to face Mallory. There was little doubt in her mind that he would do the job the others couldn’t.

Sensing danger, the other Polekele people starting moving away, back away from the fire, away from Mallory and the hunters and warriors gathered around her. Children were pulled away, men and women not fit for battle ran to their tents and watched from the sidelines. The long stone table was quickly emptied, leaving on Pan behind.

Their leader finally seemed to realize that one of their guests was not welcomed. He turned to the boy, still eating grapes and roared something at him, pointing an accusatory finger. Mallory didn’t understand the language, the look on the man’s face, with the many painted eyes, was quite telling of his opinion on the matter. Pan just smiled at the King or Chieftain (or however these people saw him), apparently not worried that he was about to be turned into mincemeat.

The Chieftain swung his spear at the boy, but Peter Pan had disappeared into thin air. Mallory had looked away at the wrong moment, and was caught by surprise when something brushed against her back. She looked around in surprise, to see Pan standing there. “Jeez, you scared me! How did you do that?”

Peter Pan ignored the question. Although his expression was that of ease, his voice spoke of urgency, “I hope you have a better plan than this, girl, because that screaming banshee of yours isn’t going to hold them back for long.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m working on it,” Mallory said through clenched teeth. Oh, of course he’d go to her for an answer, even though clearly Pan had his own ways out of danger. Why did he even bother? “Can’t you just teleport us out of here, like you’re so good at doing?”  
  
“Where’s the fun in that?” Peter threw her a sly grin. “Come on, girl, show me how clever you are.”

Mallory blinked, turning away from him as it hit her. This was another test. Of course, how could she not see it before? Pan had made it less obvious this time, not explaining what she had to do right away. How did he anticipate that she would get stuck like this, caught by the cannibals? Was he really such a mastermind, or was he making it up as he went along?  
  
She decided it didn’t matter at the moment. Right now, Mallory’s priority was to get out of here alive, preferably in one piece.

With the multi-eyed Chieftain coming ever closer, Mallory quickly scanned the area, looking for the quickest route of escape. Sure, she could try to go back the way they came, but she didn’t know the paths well, and they would still be in Polekele territory. Mallory could run fast, but not as fast as all of these tribesmen. She couldn’t count on Peter, either.

Cecily was still going strong, “ _WORKING HARD TO GET MY FILL, EVERYBODY WANTS A THRIII-IILLL_...”

“She has the voice of an angel,” Peter Pan remarked, as if to get Mallory going again. “Yes, I’m sure that this is helping the situation, just standing here like sitting ducks, waiting to be eaten.”

“Shut up, I’m thinking!” Mallory hissed. She didn’t want Pan talking too loud, in case Cecily heard and got distracted. If she learned Mallory wasn’t alone, if there was a boy with her, then the singing would stop and the questions would start and then she’d be dead.

The Chieftain was on top of them now. He raised his spear and Mallory looked up, just in time to see it coming down and throw herself forward and between his legs.

The spear landed into empty dirt. Mallory scrambled to her feet on the other side of the giant Chieftain, who seemed bewildered by the sudden move. The warriors at his back cried out at her approach and Mallory swung her arm around, turning the phone on them and sending the warriors back in such a rush that they fell over one another.

Mallory started to run, just as the Chieftain turned around to attack her. Pan had managed to dodge around him as his back was turned, easily catching up to Mallory when she vaulted over the stone table and pushed through the dense shrubbery behind it.

Words were not exchanged although Mallory was aware that the singing had stopped. Cecily had probably heard the commotion from Mallory’s end and was now asking questions, things Mallory couldn’t understand because she was too busy concentrating on not to trip or get whipped in the face by a branch.

It wasn’t a long run, but Mallory’s heart pounded as she heard the shouting and chanting of the Polekele behind her, giving chase. They were seriously pissed that she had managed to escape their grasp.

She cried out when a large feathered dart smacked into the bark of the tree near her head as she passed. Mallory cried out to Pan, “What do we do now? They’re going to kill us!”

“No, they won’t!” Pan seemed to notice her desperation and grabbed her arm, yanking Mallory along as they ran through the trees. “Come on!”

Mallory could feel a wind blowing through, but where was it coming from. She nearly fell flat on her face when her foot caught around a root. Still, it was enough to put a stop to the running, where she accidentally pulled Pan back and they crashed into the underbrush. And just in time, too.

The brush had cleared just as they came to a stop. Before them lay a few feet of dirt before it ended in a drop-off, a deep chasm that fell into dark forest below.

Mallory could still hear the Polekele behind them, hot on the trail. “Oh, my god, we’re trapped!”

She looked to her phone, but her hand was empty. Mallory looked behind her, wondering where she had dropped it. It was too late now to get it back.

“We keep going,” Pan said in an even tone, as if the Chasm of Death wasn’t a problem at all. He stood up, brushed off his pants, turned to her and asked, “What’s your opinion on flight?”

“Not a good one,” Mallory replied, getting up as well. She eyed Peter Pan suspiciously, wondering why he asked. “What are you getting – AH!”

Without waiting for her to finish, Pan had pushed her. Mallory stumbled back, but the few feet of ground she had left to stand on disappeared beneath her shoes.

Mallory jerked back into empty air, her throat closing in utter terror. The edge of the cliff rose up in her line of sight as Peter looked down, waving as he got smaller and smaller.

She could only scream one word as she fell:

“PAN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really weird chapter now that I think about it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

* * *

 

Mallory hit palm leaves about fifteen feet down. They probably saved her life.

After the rush of free fall, the air was knocked out of she fell through the jungle canopy. Her shoulder hit a branch and another giant palm leaf the size of a surfboard snapped underneath her, slightly cushioning her fall as she hit the steep slope below.

Expecting to come to a stop, Mallory gasped what little breath she managed to suck in when she started to slide. Like a skis on snow, the leaf underneath her slipped across the smooth rock and thin dirt, little friction to stop her.

In less than two seconds she was already racing down the side of the cliff, clinging to the edges of the palm leaf as she hit another drop-off and picked up speed.

She tried to stop her descent, but when Mallory tried to catch onto something, she only hurt her hands in the process, and went by too fast to get a good grip. Instead, she grabbed onto the edges of the giant leaf, inadvertently avoiding a tree trunk when she jerked to the side. It rushed by her in a flash of bark and leaves, taking her breath away.

Whoa! That was too close!

The branches whipped by her face, leaving her skin burning and pulling out a bit of her hair. Mallory quickly realized that she was not coming to a stop until she reached the bottom. So she held on tight, her nerves on end as she maneuvered through the trees and branches and the odd rock or two.

The sloping ground was slick with moss and wet grass and dirt, speeding her along until suddenly the ground dropped out beneath her once more.

She uttered one final cry before her trip came to a sudden end.

_Sploosh!_

The cold water hit her like a brick wall. The impact stunned Mallory and she quickly sunk, before the lack of air sent a jolt to her brain and kickstarted her limbs. The leaf floating away, Mallory burst to the surface, gasping for air and treading water, looking around every which way to see where she had ended up.

She seemed to have landed in a pond, surrounded by a small clearing. No animals lurked about, and the trees were devoid of bird sounds. It was very much night here, and she seemed to be making too much noise in the water.

Two seconds later, there came a whooping cry and something landed in the water beside her. Mallory yelped, bringing up her arms to shield her eyes from the onslaught of waves, before looking up to see Peter Pan’s head bobbing up in the water.

“Wasn’t that fun?” he asked her, a gigantic grin on his face.

Mallory stared at him for a second, spluttering. “F-f- _fun_?! You call that fun? I nearly died!”  
  
“Well, that’s what makes it so exciting!” Pan replied, swimming towards the shore. He pulled himself out, Mallory close behind. As she flopped onto the ground, exhausted, Pan just jumped right up with his hands on his hips, as lively as ever. “I have to say, I’ve never seen anything quite like that, what you did back there. It was almost...inspiring.”

Mallory picked her head up off the ground to glare at Pan, who was busy wringing his shirt of water. “Those cannibals were going to eat me! And you were going to let them!”

“Well, maybe,” Peter Pan shrugged, making a face. He seemed entirely nonplussed by the accusation, or the idea that Mallory might have been the main course. “I hadn’t quite decided whether or not I wanted to save you. But you decided for me, thanks for that. Makes my job easier.”

“I hate you,” she muttered, finally picking herself up off the ground. Mallory tried putting weight on her right foot before wincing and leaning on her other one. Nope, definitely sprained. She didn’t have much of a choice now - she’d have to follow Pan. There was no way she could survive on her own, hungry and incapacitated like this.

She hadn’t been paying too much attention when the Polekele were chasing her, if only because that if she _didn’t_ run, Mallory would most certainly have died. A combination of priorities and adrenalin had kept her ankle from slowing her down.

But now that the rush was over, Mallory felt drained and sagged on her own legs. Her muscles were stiff and protested to every movement. Her entire left leg wanted to crumple beneath her weight. The new pain brought tears to her eyes and Mallory had to choked them back, lest Pan see and make fun of her.

She took an experimental step forward, dropping heavily on her uninjured foot. Well, a limp was better than not being able to walk at all, she supposed. Mallory just had to look on the bright side.

Such as... her shirt front was covered in dirt and dried grass. All her clothes were ruined. When Mallory touched her face, her hand came back bloody. Oh, good, she had wounds and there wasn’t a First Aid kit in sight. “Just great. This is going to get infected, I just know it.”

“What? That little scratch?” Pan snorted, casting the wound a passing glance before turning towards the woods. “I’ve seen worse. But if you’re going to be a baby about it, I suppose I could let you into my camp. Maybe one of the Lost Boys can treat it, they’re good at taking care of themselves.”

Somehow, Mallory doubted that a group of pre-pubescent boys would be experts in maintenance and organization. She liked even less the idea of going in Pan’s camp, which sounded like another trap. “Yeah, and how do I know no one’s going to kill me once I’m there? Those Lost Boys of yours certainly seemed determined to put an arrow through my skull yesterday.”

“Don’t be daft, they weren’t going to kill you.” Peter Pan scoffed, tossing his head and ruffling his unusually healthy hair – come on, how did he get it to look so nice? There was no way he was using shampoo/conditioner. Mallory’s hair was wet, frizzy, and split in various spaces, not to mention the plaits that Cecily had braided in a couple days ago. She looked like hell next to Pan.

He flashed a grin at her. “They’d just poke you around for a bit. Fight with you, test your mettle. You would’ve gotten no worse than a couple bruises, maybe a broken nose.”

“I like my nose the way it is, thanks,” Mallory glared at the back of Pan’s head. She wished that a coconut would just drop and knock him out cold. But nothing happened.

Ahead of her, Pan suddenly laughed. He glanced at the startled Mallory over his shoulder, saying, “That’s not going to work on me, girl. Nothing on this island happens without my say so.”

Mallory paused, alarmed. “You can read my thoughts?”

But Pan just shook his head and kept going, merry as could be. “What? No, of course not. But I know the island, and I know it grants any wish you desire. They just have to go by me first.”

“Oh.” Dread filled Mallory’s stomach when she realized that her meals, the food that was otherwise impossible to find in a jungle, had all been Pan’s doing. If he wanted this to be hard on her, why would Pan allow Mallory the luxury of pizza and fresh fruit? Did he just not care, or was it his idea of mercy?

She shuddered at the thought. Mercy did not fit the image of the boy in front of her.

Mallory hated the way he strutted about the forest, like a preening rooster, without a care in the world. He took great strides, not caring for stealth, and for a boy who had proven himself quite good at sneaking up on people, this attitude was clearly a sign that he wasn’t concerned about who (or what) saw him. Animals darted away as he passed, the trees grew silent, the branches shivered at his touch, and even the very moonlight seemed to bend, casting Pan in a spotlight as he traveled. It turned his blond hair white and cast him in an almost divine aura. The sight was eerie to witness and Mallory wondered why she was even following him in the first place.

She supposed she didn’t have to. It wasn’t like Peter Pan had told her to – he just seemed to expect Mallory to do so, which bugged her even more. _Arrogant son of a…_

But what choice did she have, anyways? Mallory was injured, and she really did need some care, Lost Boy medics or not.

Then another realization occurred to her, and she thought aloud, “Wait, so if you’re in control, why are the Polekele here, if they seem to be a problem? How am I walking into their territory if your, like, the King of Neverland?”

Pan stopped at a large tree, leaning against it as though taking a break. Somehow, Mallory doubted he was very tired. Perhaps Pan was just humoring her, in his own way.

There was that irritating impish smirk on his face, one that said he liked being called _King_. “Well, I guess ‘territory’ is a strong word for it. It’s more like a lease…”

Mallory eyebrows shot up, although her mouth remained in a firm line. “I’m surprised you even know what that word means.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises, just you wait,” Pan said, winking at her. Mallory blushed in spite of herself and turned away so he wouldn’t see; still in the shadows, she hoped he wouldn’t.

Mallory didn’t flirt with boys. Most of the ones she knew were Matt’s friends, and whatever attractiveness they had to their name (because they didn’t have much else besides money, which for all intents and purposes, Mallory already had) was gone by the third beer. Rarely, if ever, did boys ever flirt with her, and Mallory could never be too sure if they were actually interested in _her_ or whatever fame and glory her name got them. While not a celebrity, Mallory was still prey to its inherent dangers.

And Pan was not unpleasant to look at, despite his many personality flaws. While Mallory considered his features to be too boyish to be put in the same category as handsome (like George Clooney or what’s-his-face from those _Captain America_ movies), he had a certain charming appeal. Pan stood several inches taller than her, was fit from an active and dangerous lifestyle. Green eyes that would make girls weak at the knees – had they not known better to stay away. And that smile could do wonders in the real world; Pan would have people falling over themselves just to have him star in a commercial, audition for movies, or have a spot on a late-night talk show.

And life on a jungle island had given Pan a messy, wild appearance that somehow didn’t detract from him at all. His hair, not too long, fell just in the right places. Bright white teeth that defied hygiene. And although he was dirty, he did not reek of B.O. (which was a major deal-breaker for just about anyone living in the 21st century, Mallory figured).

But Mallory just shrugged this all off. She knew better than to be smitten by mere appearance. She was not some fangirl chasing after boy bands like a lovesick puppy-dog. Pan’s cruel nature alone was enough to turn her off, and Mallory forced her blush away. And Pan did not act his age anyways; so immature, so vain. Like so many others she knew. Stupid boys and their stupid antics.

Pan continued to say: “But that’s what I meant. When the Polekele start to get boring, whenever that happens, that’s when they go. Simple as that.”

“Go where?” Mallory asked, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. She got one anyways.

“Away,” Pan said with a shrug, waving a hand like it didn’t really matter. “Disappear. Gone. Never to be seen again.”

That was a strange way to put it, and somewhat less gruesome than what Mallory was expecting. She had noticed that Pan had never put an ‘if’ in that statement, only a ‘when’; like the end of the Polekele was inevitable, and based entirely on the whims of a boy. What a dreadful existence.

“And who would replace them? Pirates?” Mallory asked, having assumed from her most recent encounter with them ending badly. “I’m sure Captain Flint would love to finally set foot on land again.”

As soon as she mentioned the name, Mallory regretted it. The glimmer in Pan’s eyes, that playful smile immediately vanished, to be replaced with a scowl. For a split second, another emotion flashed across his face, but it was too quick for Mallory to catch. Pan growled, “No, not him. He’s no fun ­– he just wants his treasure back. Not that I’m going to let him have it.”

 _Treasure_ …another buzzword that had Mallory feeling déjà vu. Once more, she was sure she had heard Captain Flint’s name before, but could not recall where. The name was on the tip of her tongue, yet too far out of reach. It was frustrating, and she didn’t count on Peter Pan to tell her what was going on. “He buried treasure here?”

“Yes. Somewhere.” Pan looked away. Although he added nothing to that statement, Mallory had the sneaking suspicion that he didn’t know exactly _where_ the treasure was, or how to find it.

She smiled, relishing the moment of having something, a weakness, to tease him with. “Sounds like the King doesn’t know _everything_ about his land, does he?”

“Shut up.” Pan shot a dangerous look in her direction that had Mallory concentrating on her feet. Still, once he got up and stalked away, she couldn’t help but smother a laugh. Apparently, Pan didn’t always have a good comeback, either. What joy.

They continued their journey in silence, Pan’s mood somewhat soured by the mention of Captain Flint and his mysterious treasure. Maybe that’s why the pirate was capturing mermaids, looking for the Lagoon of Whatever. He needed a way on the island, to find his treasure and make off with it. Where, Mallory didn’t know ­– as fearsome as that man and his crew, they were small bananas to the metal warships and submarines that would be found upon leaving Neverland.

His little wooden sailboat would be blown to smithereens with a single missile strike. _Boom!_ Done.

Mallory giggled, delighted by the thought of a pirate ship being so out of their depths in the face of 21st century technology. Here, isolated in a magical land, Captain Flint and his band of murderous men were threats to be wary of – but at home, they would be laughed at. Scorned. Even modern day pirates would see them as a joke.

Still, that idea did not dull the pride Mallory felt for taking Flint’s sword. _That_ was an accomplishment. She gripped the leather hilt, felt it starting to mold to her hand. It’s strength, its power. She had never felt that way before. Mallory could get used to carrying a weapon.

“Why are you walking so slow?” Pan called over his shoulder, looking annoyed. Mallory was more than ten feet behind him, struggling over the roots and steep hills as he went ahead. Her ankle was hurting even more than before.

“Because,” Mallory deliberated for a second, wondering if it was really a good idea to tell Pan that she was injured. Would he make the game harder? Would he leave her behind to suffer and die alone? Mallory  hoped not - she believed Pan wanted her alive, because she provided entertainment that was apparently hard to find elsewhere. “My ankle hurts. I think it snapped when I got caught in the Polekele’s snare.”

“Oh,” was all Pan said. No remarks, no snide comments, nothing that might have suggested he thought her weak or girly (because let’s be honest, his comebacks weren’t _that_ sophisticated.) He turned back around and kept walking without another word.

Mallory didn’t complain. She didn’t demand Pan to help her. She knew better than to tread on whatever lines had been set in this game - Pan was in power, he was practically a god here; he didn’t _have_ to do anything she said, and pushing it would certainly get Mallory into more trouble and pain. So no, she didn’t speak and hoped that perhaps Pan might give her a break, out of the kindness of his heart.

If he even had one.

“Hey,” she said, trying to be heard over her own panting and deep crunching noises of their footsteps. “Why did my phone work? It shouldn’t have been even on, never mind able to receive calls. I’ve been in the water three times since I got here, that thing should’ve been bricked a long time ago.”

“Your phone?” Pan stopped to try out this alien word, giving her a raised eyebrow. It took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about. “Oh! Right, your little magic box. I just felt like you could use the help. And the tiny person inside was very funny. Not much of a singing voice, though.”

Mallory was sure Cecily had been half-drunk (or high as a kite, it didn’t really matter) when she called Mallory’s phone, so didn’t argue the point. Still, she was a little put out by this information - her phone could work, if Peter Pan wanted it to, defying all logic and reason. Yet, just when she could really use it, she had to lose the phone.

Maybe Cecily could entertain the Polekele. Maybe they would revere the phone as some sort of almighty deity.

Or maybe they’d just smash it against the rock and forget about it the next day. Mallory had no idea.

“Are you done with the stupid questions now?” Pan asked with a scathing tone. Clearly, Mallory was getting too nosy for his liking. She peeked around Pan’s head, wondering if maybe his ears were pointed, like the evil little gremlin he was. But no, all she saw were normal boy ears. Hm, too bad.

He waved a hand in the air, saying, “Rule of thumb is that if something happens on this island, then I have something to do with it. Easy enough?”

“Right,” Mallory grumbled, shrugging her shoulders. Attributing every odd occurrence or chance to Peter Pan’s will could be understood – but it still didn’t give her a lot of answers. Such as the _how_ and the _why_. Pan seemed to be keeping these to himself. “Got it.”

“Good,” he said, raising his arm and pushing away a leaf frond, revealing a golden light behind. Pan threw her a sharp-toothed smile. “Because we’re here.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

* * *

 

Everyone stared in silence as Mallory emerged from the bushes, gaping at the single female in what was probably on the entire island.

"Is that," one said. "a _girl_?"

"Ew!" another recoiled, a look of disgust on his face. Others reacted in a similar manner, sharing the same sentiment. "Don't let her get too close, she probably has cooties!"

"Ugh, I can't get cooties!" another said, wringing his hands. "I'm too young to die!"

"Now, now boys, don't be like that to her. She's our honored guest! And you're supposed to be gentlemen!" Pan called, expanding his arms to speak to the group at large, who were starting to back off. He was smiling as though nothing was wrong, and Mallory had no doubt he expected this would happen. "And how do gentlemen treat their guests?"

"Eat them?" guessed an anonymous voice in the crowd.

"Close, Tootles," Pan said, earning a look of alarm from Mallory. After their recent encounter with cannibals, she was taking any and all references to eating humans, joking or not, quite seriously. "We we treat her with the utmost care, the best we have to offer. Now, poor Mallory here has injured her ankle – as her hosts, it is our duty to ensure her health! Where are the medical supplies? At least one of you knows how to make a splint, right?"

There was a scurry of activity as everyone burst into movement. It seemed as though the medical supplies weren't all kept in one place, since they seemed to be pulling things from all sorts of places. A roll of bandages here ( _how_ did they get their hands on those?), a little pot there, etc. Boys were bumping into each other; two were in an argument about a bow, one demanding the other to give him his bowstring since the twine had gone missing.

Meanwhile, Pan ushered her over to a log where she could sit down. He kept a firm hand on the small of her back, making her face flush and skin crawl. _God damn, girl, get your hormones under control, you've met hotter guys than this – and less psychotic, too_. She tried to maneuver away, but that would just be wasting energy, and she was leaning heavily on Flint's sword just to keep herself upright. Pan's gesture was, technically, helpful, but she doubted that was his only intention.

She was glad to leave his side, flopping down on the hard curve of the log. It had been smoothed over from use, so Mallory didn't have to worry about splinters. The Lost Boys practically dragged Peter away, demanding to know where he'd been, hear the wonderful tales of adventure. Begging was hardly necessary; Pan looked all too pleased to regale them with their recent run-in with the cannibals and the subsequent grand escape.

Rolling her eyes, Mallory watched as one boy took charge of the medical supplies, grabbing it from the others before kneeling down in front of her. His face was smudged in dirt and he had cauliflower ears like he got into a lot of fights, so Mallory was less than convinced by his medical expertise.

"Uh, you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked as the boy lifted her gimp foot, propping it up on a rock. She winced – he wasn't exactly delicate. "I mean, do you have any training?"

"Wot?" he snapped in a thick Cockney accent. "Do I look like I have a bloomin' license, luv? Beggars can't be choosers. Just be grateful tha' Peter Pan saved your sorry arse from those cannibals, yeah?"

"Saved me? He didn't do sh – ow!" Mallory yelped as the little scab grabbed her ankle and twisted it. Sure, he was just trying to straighten it out for the brace, but still. "Ugh, could you give me a warning next time?"

"Are all girls as whiny as you?" the boy snapped back, starting to wrap her foot in bandages. They seemed to be woven out of plant fibers, like much of their clothes, if it didn't look like it was salvaged from a dumpster. She did her best to keep her foot still, but the pain was mounting to a point that there were white stars flashing in front of her eyes. "Just shut your gob, will ya?"

Mallory sniffed, watching as he placed two pieces of bark on either side of her ankle and proceeded to lash them together with the strips of bandages. His fingers were grimy, dirt under his nails and lesions along his knuckles. What about this place made it so desirable to stay? Getting beat up all the time didn't seem to be a perk. "I don't care what story Pan tells, he didn't do anything. I had to save myself, thank you very much, while he watched and laughed."

"Whatever you say, luv," the boy muttered, clearly unconvinced.

Mallory made a face, but didn't say anything else. She wasn't going to push the matter, since she obviously had no proof that she did it on her own; the Lost Boys were far too loyal to Pan to believe anything against his word. Then a thought occurred to her and she asked, "So, what's your name?"

"Everyone here calls me Twigs,"

She had to contain a snort. "Why do they call you Twigs?"

"Wot? You think that's funny, do ya, girl?" the boy snarled at her. "That's what they call me. You got a problem with that?"

"No," she said quickly. The last thing Mallory wanted right now was to piss off the kid who was fixing her ankle. "I meant an actual name. Your _real_ name."

The boy didn't reply right away. Mallory didn't repeat the question, figuring he was just ignoring her because he thought she was annoying. But then he muttered, "Barnaby. But only me mum calls me that."

"...Oh." was all she could say.

There was something sad in that statement, but Mallory was too uncomfortable to point it out. It seemed private, too private to go announcing it in the middle of their camp, and she felt as though the boy trusted her with this kind of information. It was a small sign of vulnerability that Mallory didn't want to forsake.

Barnaby-Twigs finished tying the knot and got up, clapping his grimy hands together. "Well, that's done, then. You should be up and dancin' in no time, provided you don't do nothin' crazy. Shouldn't be too hard for a girl like you."

Mallory opened her mouth to give her own sharp comeback, but Barnaby-Twigs had already walked away. She considered shouting something nasty after him, but at the last moment stopped herself. She was, as Peter said, a guest. She doubted it would stay that way if she kept offending her hosts; besides, she would hardly look dignified if she kept acting out to every petty little insult.

As everyone got back to what they were doing before – some cooking, some chopping wood, or making arrows, others sparring with swords and daggers, etc – Peter Pan eventually wandered back over to her. In his hand he had an apple, which he tossed at her.

Mallory caught it, half out of surprise. Although she was starving, she didn't take a bite out of it right away. She peered at the fruit suspiciously, before eying Peter, "Is it poisoned?"

The imp laughed, apparently amused by her paranoia. "What? No, of course not. What reason would I have to kill you? The game would be over far too quickly, don't you think?"

"Hmm," she mumbled a noncommittal response. Mallory looked back down at the apple, considering Pan's answer. He _did_ have a point. Why escape a bunch of cannibals and waste medical supplies when he was just going to kill her with some food? Then, shrugging to herself, Mallory took a bite of the apple and said around a full mouth, "So, what now?"

"Well, since you're stuck here," Peter Pan declared, nudging her splinted ankle with his toe. It didn't hurt, but Mallory flinched nonetheless. "You might as well make your keep. Everyone pulls their weight around here. Don't think you'll get special treatment just because you're a girl."

"Wouldn't dream of it." She muttered, before looking back up at the boy. "But how do you expect me to do that? I can't exactly hunt for food or chop wood with a gimp foot. What am I supposed to do?"

"Good question," Pan grinned, making Mallory regret she even brought it up. He turned to his friends, raising his arms and asking, "Well, what do you say, boys? What do we want dear Mallory to do? Surely if we put our heads together, we can think of something."

The rascals were all too eager to put in their own two cents.

"She can cook!"

"No, she can clean!"

"Target practice, and she's the target!"

Mallory found the last one quite objectionable, and tried to gauge Pan's expression, hoping he wouldn't actually agree to it. Considering his rather psychopathic idea of fun, she wouldn't put it beyond him.

"No, I got a better idea!" One boy cried, a rabbit skin on his head. "She can tell us a story!"

"Brilliant, Nibs!" Pan raised his hand, calling for silence from the others. He proceeded to flop down on his 'throne' of sorts, a carved out tree trunk with a threadbare pillow. It was the only cushion to be seen. Pan settled in it, just like the smarmy little King he made himself out to be. He flicked a hand at Mallory, still sitting in the dirt, and said, "Well, go on then! Girls love to talk, don't they? This shouldn't be very hard for you."

She threw him a withering look, but with no other option, Mallory resigned herself to her (rather tame) fate. "Oh, fine. Before I start, is everyone comfortable?"

There was a mad scramble for seating. With more than a dozen lost boys, and not enough logs or boulders to sit on, there was pushing and shoving, even some biting and brandishing of weapons. The bigger boys got the logs, prime seating, some of the smaller ones clambered onto the rocks, piling over one another to get a good view. One unlucky boy got pushed into a mud puddle, where he would cross his arms and pout for the rest of the night. The rest crowded at Mallory's feet and around the fire.

Only one was left standing: the tall, nameless blond one with the scar running down his face. She remembered him as the guy that got her caught in the cannibal's trap, and the reason she had a sprained ankle right now. He seemed older than the rest, and took his place beside Pan's throne, like his royal guard, silent and stoic.

When everyone was finally settled, Mallory took a deep breath, giving herself a second to collect her thoughts, before she began.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a tower -"

"Why does she live in a tower?" One called out.

"Who put her there?" Another asked.

"This is stupid," a third shouted. "We should do target practice inste-"

"Shut up!" Mallory snapped, so loud even Pan jumped a little. She understood that she was their captive, but she was _not_ going to put up with this behavior when trying to do her job. "I'm telling a story, and the only way you're going to hear it is if you all BE QUIET! Do I make myself clear?"

The boys stared at her in silence, surprised by the outburst.

"I SAID," Mallory pronounced each syllable with patronizing slowness. "Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

"Yes," came a chorus of sullen voices.

"Yes, what?" She demanded.

She got a mixture of "Yes, Ma'am," and "miss" and even a "milady" or two. Finally pleased, Mallory nodded her approval and said, "Good. Now, I don't want any further interruptions. Where was I again?"

"Something about a girl and a tower," Pan said in a bored tone, head propped up in one hand. He had watched the entire discourse in quiet amusement."Riveting stuff."

"Thanks," she said, ignoring the last comment. Taking a deep breath, Mallory recomposed herself before starting anew: "This is the story of a girl, named Rapunzel."

"Aren't fairy tales supposed to start with 'once upon a time'?" Came Pan's drawl.

Mallory clenched her fists, visions of punching him in the face running through her mind. With clenched teeth she said, "No, they don't."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so," she said, earning a raised eyebrow from Peter Pan. "Is that a problem?"

He seemed to be considering whether or not to smite her for that, but did nothing and allowed her to continue. Mallory heaved a sigh and said, "And it starts with the sun."

One boy stuck his hand in the air, like a first grader in class. "I thought you said this was about a girl named Rapunzel."

"It _is_ ," she said, trying to reel in her frustration a little so she didn't give up entirely. It was like story time with kindergarteners, too curious and asking a million pointless questions that slowed down the entire thing. "But she hasn't been born yet,"

"Well, if she hasn't been born yet," another boy piped up. "Then how is it possible that you're telling us her story?"

"That's not what I meant –" Mallory groaned out loud. She pointed at the last boy who spoke, "Look, Einstein, it's called chronology and each story has it. This fairy tale already happened, okay? Rapunzel lived a long time ago, and I'm just telling you the part _before_ she was alive, okay? So the story makes sense later. And it _will_ make sense, if everyone keeps their questions until _after_ I'm done storytelling, all right?"

"As I was saying," she took a deep breath, regaining her composure. "This story begins with the sun. Now, _once upon a time_ ," she threw a significant look at Pan, who just smirked. "A drop of sunlight fell from the heavens. And from this small drop of sun grew a magic, golden flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured. Only one person knew of its existence, a little old woman. She's going to be important later."

"Well, centuries passed, and a hop, skip, and a boat ride away, there grew a kingdom. The kingdom was ruled by a beloved King and Queen. And the Queen was about to have a baby, but she got sick. Really sick. She was running out of time, and that's when people usually start looking for a miracle. Or in this case, a magic golden flower."

"Now, like I said earlier, the old woman was important. Instead of sharing the sun's gift, this woman, Mother Gothel, hoarded its healing power and used it to keep herself young for hundreds of years. And all she had to do was sing a special song."

Mallory considered not going into detail about it, but since everyone was watching her so expectantly, she decided she might as well. Doing her best to sing in tune, she went, " _Flower gleam and glow, let your powers shine. Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine, what once was mine_."

She jumped back to her normal voice a second later. "All right, you get the gist. She sings to it, she turns young, creepy, right? Mother Gothel knew the King's men were coming, so she went to her flower, sung it one last song to make her young again. Not even a minute later she hears their boots and horses and she runs, and watches from the bushes as the men come upon the legendary flower and dig it up from the ground, taking it back to the castle."

"The magic of the golden flower healed the Queen. A healthy baby girl, a princess, was born, with beautiful golden hair. Surprise, it's Rapunzel. To celebrate her birth, the King and Queen launched a flying lantern into the sky. And for that one moment, everything was perfect. And then that moment ended."

"Gothel broke into the castle, stole the child, and just like that, gone!" Mallory snapped her fingers for emphasis. "The kingdom searched and searched, but they could not find the princess. For deep within the forest, in a hidden tower, Gother raised the child as her own. She discovered that if she sang that same song, Rapunzel's hair would glow, and give her the same gift of healing she thought she had lost. Gothel had found her new magic flower, but this time, she was determined to keep it hidden. When the girl asked why she couldn't go outside, Mother Gothel would reply, "the outside world is filled with terrible, selfish people. You must stay here, where it's safe. Do you understand, flower?' And the little girl would say, 'Yes, Mommy,'"

"But the walls of that tower couldn't hide everything. Each year, on her birthday, the King and Queen released thousands of lanterns into the sky, in hope that one day their lost princess would return."

She took a deep breath and said in a huff, "All right, that's it, that's all I got for the night."

"What?" The group cried out at once. One boy, the one named Nibs, said, "You can't stop there! You have the finish the story!"

"Sorry, but that's all I've got," Mallory said with a shrug, pulling on a sad face. She knew how to play this game. If there was one thing she gained from living under her mother, it was how to act. "Maybe I'll have more tomorrow, if Pan lets me stay."

"Can she? Can she stay?" Two dozen heads turn in his direction, expressing their various pleas. "Please let her stay, Peter! We want to hear the rest of the story!"

For a split second, he looked surprised, caught off guard, but recovered in record time. The boy sighed, scratching his chin and saying, "Oh, I don't know, boys. Do we really want a _girl_ hanging around? You know how they are. She might ruin all our fun!"

"Not if she tells good stories!" Said the boy dressed in furs, with bear ears sewn into his hood. "The kind that we want to hear!"

"Yeah, if she does that," added another boy, wearing a green cloak. "Then I'm all right with her staying."

"But who decides if her stories are any good or not?" Peter Pan countered, leaning forward in his chair a little. An expression crosses his face, perhaps dismay. It seemed as though he didn't expect this reaction from the Lost Boys.

"Well, that's easy!" Another said in a chipper tone. "We put it to a vote. Majority rules."

Mallory's eyebrows shot up. These kids knew how a democracy worked? And could abide by it? Unbelievable.

"But you get executive decision, of course, Peter," a said the same boy, sitting on a rock. He seemed to have noticed the Pan's expression and reacted accordingly. A smart move on his part, but Mallory feared its repercussions.

"Hm, I suppose I can work with that," Pan sat back, putting in a disinterested air. He hit the art of his chair with his fist, declaring, "the girl stays! Now back to fun!"

Everyone got back up, Mallory forgotten in a manner of seconds. She sighed, sinking back and looking up at the sky. She could see some stars through the canopy of branches and leaves. When would it be blue again? When would she see the sun again?

Hopefully after she got some more sleep.

"Here," there was a clatter at her feet and Mallory tilted her chin back down. By her heel was a plate of dented metal; Berries, carrots, some weird leafy things, and, incredibly, bread and cheese. But that wasn't the most surprising thing.

Barnaby-Twigs stood before her, glaring at the ground and the platter of food he had just set before her. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Dinner's ready."

"Aw, thanks," Mallory couldn't help but sound all perky and sweet. Perhaps it was a bit much to tease Barnaby-Twigs, but it was fun to watch him squirm a little. "That's very sweet of you."

The boy snorted, tossing his head and looking up at the sky. Anything but her. "Don't flatter yourself. Pan just told me to get you some grub. Oh, right, and this,"

He pulled a skein from his side, tossing it at her. Mallory brought up her hands to protect it from hitting her face – instead, it smacked her collarbone and fell into her lap. It made sloshing sounds – filled with water, it seemed. She uncorked it and took a swig. Ah, good, clean water.

"Well, it's very much appreciated, Twigs," she eventually replied, feeling a little disappointed but not letting it affect her tone. Mallory reached for the food, trying to keep herself from shoving it all in her mouth at once. Instead, she plucked a berry and popped it into her mouth. "So, what did you think of the story? Any good?"

"S'all right," Barnaby-Twigs mumbled, scuffing up dirt with his heel. Before Mallory could wheedle any more information out of him, he huffed and turned around, saying, "Don't muck it up tomorrow. If you need a place to sleep, there's a hole up in that tree over there," he pointed to a spot behind her. "I'd better hurry up, if I was you. The good places get snatched up quick, and I don't think a girl like you wants to be sleeping with the rest of these gobs on the ground."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Mallory replied, going back to her food as soon as he was gone. Without an audience, she proceeded to eat her food, trying not to go too fast, but in the end giving herself a bellyache. Oh, well, at least she had food in her stomach. The water helped wash it down, and when she was done, Mallory felt so tired she thought she could sleep for an age.

Pushing the empty dish away from her, Mallory used Flint's sword to pull herself to her feet. She looked around, finding the tree that Barnaby-Twigs had mentioned earlier. Thankfully, she wouldn't be doing much climbing, since there was a series of rope bridges and carved stairs connecting the higher up places.

With a heavy limp, Mallory half-hopped over towards the steps closest to her, taking one step at a time as she made her way up around the curling staircase. The steps were uneven but the edge of Flint's sword anchored her into the wood should she slip.

It took a while, but eventually she found herself at the top, and saw the hollow embedded into the tree, a large dark hole that could fit fifty owls inside. Mallory wondered if it was a natural occurrence, or if someone carved it out themselves – it was too hard to tell in the dark like this.

She heard a low chuckle behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, Mallory saw Pan leaning against the tree with his arms crossed. "Clever Mallory. Preying on the curiosity of innocent young boys. I didn't think you had it in you."

She pivoted on her heel so they were standing face-to-face. Feeling a little nervous and wondering what Peter would do since he knew her play, she asked, "So, what? Does that disqualify me? Do I lose?"

"On the contrary," Pan shook his head. "I'd say things just got a little more interesting. You play this game better than I thought."

Just when Mallory thought Pan was going to let her off with a compliment (she shouldn't have been so naive), Pan got in close. Hobbled, Mallory couldn't back away fast enough before they were almost nose-to-nose. His green eyes burned right through hers as he spoke with a honeyed voice. "Let's hope that you can follow through on your promise, for your own sake. My boys don't like to be disappointed."

"Your boys," Mallory said, finding her voice through the thickness of her fear. Pan seemed to enjoy invading her personal space. But she would not let him have the last word. "Or you?"

Peter huffed, then smirked. She couldn't tell if it was supposed to display his confidence or hide his anger. Maybe both. "Good night, Mallory. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Mallory felt a sudden pinch in her shoulder, like someone just stuck a needle into her skin. She flinched, swiveling her head around and grabbing her arm. "Ow!"

Almost unbalancing herself, Mallory had to catch the side of the tree. When she looked up again, Pan was gone.

Scowling, Mallory spat the hair out of her face. Speaking to no one in particular, she muttered, "Yeah, goodnight to you, too."

As she crawled into the little tree hollow, Mallory thought she heard faint laughter on the wind. Shivering and more than a little creeped out, Mallory curled up on the furs lain inside. Once she finally found a comfortable position for her foot, she fell right to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked the Tangled version of Rapunzel because, one, I like it more than the OUAT version, and two, it'd be the only one Mallory would be familiar with (since Disney itself exists within this universe), because she doesn't have Henry's story book. It's also a long enough story to be told in different parts, which is exactly what she needs right now for her plan to work.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long hiatus! I kind of lost focus with this story, I wasn’t sure how to proceed with the next parts, but I think I have a better idea now. Thank you for all the encouraging reviews, you definitely helped me along in this process :D
> 
> I kind of imagined Mallory looking like a young Kathryn Beaumont — the voice actress and character model for Alice in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, and as Wendy Darling in Peter Pan. I never really had a specific idea for what she looked like so I didn’t go to much lengths at describing her physically, but if you guys have other ideas, I’d love to hear it lol
> 
> The only ‘set’ thing about her appearance would be any scars she gets. I can’t think of anything at the moment, I’ll have to go back and read this again, but I’m sure she’ll get some :)

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

* * *

 

 

“Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty!”

The sound of Pan’s crowing startled Malory awake. Eyes flying open, she jolted at the sight of Pan standing in front of her little hidey-hole, a black silhouette that looked more demonic than anything else.

Even though she couldn’t hear it, she knew there was a wicked grin on his face. “Or do I need to kiss you first? Isn’t that how the story goes?”

Ugh, of course. Can’t have one lousy nap without being tormented by Peter Pan. Mallory pressed her good foot against his chest, shoving Pan back and grumbling, “I’d rather kiss a frog.”

“Aw, that’s not nice.” Pan made a face, stumbling back a few steps but surprisingly didn’t retaliate in any way. At least now that he was standing in the light, it was easier to read his expressions. (Not that they revealed too much about his personal thoughts anyways, but it wasn’t like Mallory had anything else to go on.) He continued, “I heard they turn into Princes sometimes. Awful sort, them. Always on about _‘My Destiny’_ this, _‘True Love’_ that. You don’t want to end up with some prat like that for the rest of your life, do you?”

It sure sounded a lot nicer than this nightmare. Mallory sniffed. “As long as he isn’t you. What do you want?”

Pan’s eyes squinted a little, as though he thought of a truly nasty thing to say in return, but apparently decided against it. Instead, he tilted his head and smiled in way that said Mallory was going to regret saying that later. “Well, I wouldn’t be much of a King if I didn’t show you my kingdom, would I?”

“Grand plan,” Mallory grunted as she hefted herself out of her little hidey hole. She landed hard on her good foot and leaned against the tree to support her weight. She gestured to the splinted leg, saying, “But as you can see, I’m a bit incapacitated at the moment.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Pan scoffed and started down the steps, leaving Mallory to sigh and hobble after him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I’ve got it all figured out. Just you wait, Malzipan.”

“Please don’t call me that,” she muttered, already knowing it was a moot point. Mallory wasn’t sure if Peter Pan heard her or not, but if he had, he decided to ignored it.

“So what are we doing today?” she asked as they got to the bottom of the tree. The air was filled with the sound of chat and jabber, and it only got louder and louder the closer they got. There seemed to be quite a commotion, and Mallory couldn’t tell what it was. “What’s the big deal?”

All around her, Lost Boys were in a hurry, running to and fro, apparently in a rush to get stuff done. She saw some fletching arrows and sharpening swords, practicing hacks at tree trunks and dummies made out of sacks of straw. She saw one boy, the tall one with the scar on his face, cleave a coconut head in half with one clean swipe of his axe, with only the cold glint of concentration in his eyes.

Others were making poultices and other strange concoctions in rough-hewn wooden bowls and mallets, sprinkling in leaves, nuts, and spices to create smells that made Mallory’s eyes water even from where she stood. Several were stitching pieces of leather together in some sort of armor — not exactly professional blacksmiths, but there was a certain amount of deliberateness in their needlepoint that spoke of skill and experience. The leather itself certainly looked tough, enough to stop an arrow, maybe even a blade.

As Mallory took it all in, the pieces came together to form a picture that she wasn’t sure she liked.

Swallowing nervously, Mallory glanced at Pan, who smiled at her, and threw out his arms in another one of his grand gestures. “Why, we’re preparing for war!”

Mallory stared at him for a second. “...Uh, _yeah_ , I don’t like that plan. That’s a very bad plan.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s just how it is,” Peter shrugged before stepping around her, flicking her nose as he passed. Mallory uttered a little yelp, scandalized, as he cackled and said, “You’re the one who made the deal, Malzipan, not me! Let’s see how you fare against _pirates_!”

“ARR, MATEY!” the Lost Boys cheered in unison, making Mallory jump. It took her a moment to recover from her surprise, and threw them all a dirty look.

“Weirdos,” she rolled her eyes, then followed Pan, poking him with her sword to get him to look at her. “Hey, you don’t seriously expect me to fight, do you? I thought all I had to do was tell stories!”

“What, afraid of a little danger?” Peter asked, cocking an eyebrow as he flopped into his tree-throne. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Mallory was sure it was a smaller last night. The back certainly hadn’t been so high. Did Pan just _magicked_ it into being taller? Why, so it’d be more imposing? Was Mallory not intimidated enough as it was?

Well, whatever the reason, she wasn’t impressed, and she wouldn’t give Pan the satisfaction of pointing it out. Instead, Mallory glared at him. “I really hope you’re not seriously asking me that.”

“All right, I see your point.” Peter said, nodding as if he was some old wise man. Then he crossed his arms and declared with a sharp jerk of his chin, “You can be bait, then.”

“ _Bait_?!” somehow, Mallory didn’t think there could be anything worse than fighting pirates with a gimp ankle. Of course, she could always trust Pan to prove her wrong. He was funny like that.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Pan admonished, looking pained as though she were over-reacting. Mallory would like to disagree. She was reacting _just enough_ , thank you very much! “You won’t be any harm! I’ll make sure of it.”

“Oh, yeah? How?” she said, planting her hands on her hips and giving him a raised eyebrow. Perhaps she was just goading him, but Mallory seriously doubted any promise Peter Pan could give her. It wasn’t just that she thought anything he might think up be ill-suited for the task, but that he would deliberately make a joke out of it. Because what else could she expect from this point? “You gonna set up some of your Lost Boys as, what, my personal bodyguards or something?”

“Psh, no,” Peter flicked his hand dismissively at the thought, then jerked a thumb at himself. “The only one up for this job is myself, I’m afraid.”

Pan said it with the air of soldier long-suffering, performing an arduous duty, like he was doing Mallory a favor or something. Apparently he must have better things to do than make sure some stupid girl like her didn’t get turned into pirate-shish-ka-bob by Captain Flint and his crew.

“Really? You?” Mallory huffed, leaning against the armrest to ease the stress on her ankle. Peter looked a little displeased by this, and tried to push her off with one finger, but her butt wasn’t going anywhere. She threw him a disbelieving look to rival his annoyed one. “Excuse me if I’m not instilled with confidence at that.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Pan held out his arms, his eyebrows pinching upwards in mock hurt.

“Ask a stupid question.”

He elbowed her, right in the kidney, which was almost enough to tip her off. Almost. “Oh, lighten up, Mallory. Your sense of humor needs work.”

“Maybe it’s just not sensing any humor when I’m around you.” Mallory shot back, and smirked at the sour expression that crossed Pan’s face. Victory!

“Watch your tongue, girl,” he warned, green eyes glinting as he got up and leaned into her face. “Or you’ll find you’ll be eating those words.”

Mallory refused to be cowed by his intimidation tactics this time, no matter how scared she was on the inside. It was a little easier to do now that she was recognizing some of Pan’s tricks now. He got into your personal space to make you uncomfortable, used that smile to unsettle. Along with his natural charisma, Peter Pan could make for a very frightening person, even if he was just a boy. Or _appeared_ to be one.

So Mallory kept on a brave face, a bold smile as she got back up, pushed Pan back a step with the point of her finger against his chest, and said, “I’d like to see you try, _your Highness_.”

She gave him a mock curtsey before heading off to find some breakfast. Not once did Mallory give Pan the satisfaction of looking back.

  

 *******

 

An hour later, Mallory found herself by the sea, screaming as she hung from a rope under a rocky arch, swinging wildly over churning waves that crashed into the sheer cliff wall below.

She very much regretted challenging Pan, especially now that he was nowhere to be seen.

She should’ve expected this. But she didn’t, and instead cursed Pan to hell and back for his mad plan. How was this supposed to draw in the pirates? And how _the hell_ was she supposed to get down?!

The rope was tied around her midsection and legs like a harness. One of the boys though it would be funny to loop it around her neck and faked pushing her off the top of the arch, which made everyone laugh except for Mallory. They stopped laughing pretty quick after she punched that jerk right in the schnoz and threatened to hang that kid by his ankles until the sharks came to eat him. The only one laughing after that was Pan, and it almost made Mallory feel proud of her comeback, before she remembered that he was, well, _Pan_ , and his approval was not something she needed _or_ wanted.

So, least to say, Mallory was not in a good mood. The only thing she had to assure her own safety was a little golden whistle that hung around her neck on a leather cord. Pan had handed it to her right before he disappeared, telling her, “Use this as soon as you see Captain Flint, and not a second before. Understand?”

Mallory took it, wondering what the hell Pan was planning, and what his big deal was with Captain Flint. It wasn’t like the guy could get on his island anyway. Why start a needless war?

But these were immortal pre-pubescent (well, mostly) boys she was talking about. Reason didn’t really apply to their mindset.

So she settled on hoping that whatever was going on, it would work. It had to be midday by now, the sun was shining, and not a single cloud was in the sky. If the _Jolly Roger_ was anywhere nearby, they’d see her and come.

Mallory only regretted not bringing her sword. She couldn’t really hold on to it, really, when she was hanging over a hundred foot drop, and of course she didn’t want to lose it to the waves below if she dropped it, but still. Some extra protection would be nice, in case Pan failed to deliver. Since she was counting on the latter, Mallory was not liking her chances.

But before she could consider trying to call out and maybe back out of this plan, she heard a bell ringing behind her. Spinning around on her rope, Mallory was stunned to see the _Jolly_ _Roger_ coming around the curve of the island, its sails full and top deck alive with activity. Its bowsprit shot out like a long needle, propped up by the figurehead of a winged woman, piercing the water as it gradually came around the cliffside. She saw someone in the Crow’s Nest, waving their arms and pointing at her.

Well, the first step of Pan’s scheme worked. The rest was the hard part.

Mallory didn’t spot Captain Flint and his giant feathered hat amongst the crew — she expected him to be piloting the ship on the quarterdeck, spinning that great wheel around, but when it finally came into view, she was surprised to see that it was someone else at the helm, some big burly guy with a bald head, and not wearing any shirt. Mallory wondered offhand if he ever got cold going around like that shirtless.

Mallory’s confusion lasted only for a few seconds, before she remembered that Captain Flint probably _wouldn’t_ be piloting his ship, especially at this time. He was probably eating lunch right now, and anyways, if all of Mallory’s books on piracy and pre-modern naval history taught her, most crews had a helmsman or quartermaster that took care of the ‘driving’ aspect of a ship.

Which meant that Captain Flint was still below decks. Was her appearance enough to call his attention out? Mallory hoped so. She also hoped that he wouldn’t take immediate action and blow her away with one of his canons.

She fiddled with her whistle as the ship drew closer and closer. She looked up and around, hoping to see a Lost Boy hiding up there behind the rocks and foliage, but saw nothing. For all intents and purposes, Mallory was on her own here.

As the bowsprit passed by underneath her, Mallory realized that the mainmast was actually tall enough that she could touch it with her feet once it was close enough. Which meant, if any pirate felt so inclined, they could reach her, too. Which was what the man in the Crow’s Nest was doing right now.

Okay, so she really did _not_ think things through here.

Already, he was climbing up the last few meters of mast, around the flag, to greet her as it drew nearer. His arm was outstretched towards her, less than ten feet away and closing.

Mallory started to panic, her legs kicking uselessly in open air. She wanted desperately to blow the whistle now, but Pan had said not to do it until Flint showed, and she still hadn’t seen him yet. She really hoped it happened before anything bad could happen to her.

The last few feet disappeared with terrifying speed, and Mallory tried to scramble away from the pirate’s reach — but with no place to go, Mallory could only spin helplessly. The pirate, wearing a red bandana over his head, easily caught her leg and dragged her in.

“No!” she cried, trying to jerk her ankle away from him, but it was her bad one, and moving it too much caused more pain than not. Still, Mallory refused to let him get close enough to cut her rope. “Let go of me, you creep! Help! _Help!_ ”

She hoped the Lost Boys would hear her cries, but Mallory was dismayed to get no response. As she looked up, hoping desperately for someone to come to her aid, Red Bandana just laughed, “Who you calling for, lass? Ain’t no one here but us wily scoundrels!”

To the men below, he called, “Oi! Call the Captain from his quarters! We got the girl who took his sword!”

He pulled out a dagger, and Mallory swung with her good food, striking it arm. She actually managed to make the pirate drop it, but Red Bandana caught it again with startling reflexes. He grinned and waved the point at her, saying, “Ha-ha, close one! I always liked ‘em feisty. Now why don’t you come o’er here and give ol’ Jackie here a big kiss!”

He had her by the waist now, his fingers wrapped around the rope. Mallory twisted away, shouting, “How ‘bout you kiss _this_!”  
  
With that, she slammed the heel of her foot into his face. Ol’ Jackie grunted, his head snapping back, and this time he _did_ lose his dagger. It dropped, spinning to the deck below, where it narrowly missed the head of another crewmember, who looked up and shouting, waving his fist at the two of them struggling at the top of the mainmast.

“Ugh, that was my favorite knife!” Ol’ Jackie said, scowling down at the deck below before looking back at her. His smarmy attitude was gone now as he grabbed the rope on both sides of her waist and hauled her in. “You’re gonna pay for that, little lass. There ain’t gonna be much left for the Captain after I’m done with you.”

Mallory shrieked and writhed against his grip, but it was no good. The man was far stronger, thanks to a life on the sea, and much bigger, and even though she was still attached to the rope, the ship had seemingly stopped moving. How long would it take for Ol’ Jackie to find something else to cut her down with, or even another member coming up to help?

She didn’t have that kind of time. As Mallory scrambled to grab the whistle around her neck, while fighting the pirate’s grip around her wrists, she scanned the decks below. Still no sign of Captain Flint.

“Oi, what’s this?” Ol’ Jackie said, letting go of one Mallory’s wrists to grab the golden whistle. He peered at it, sneering, “Shiny little trinket you have there, little lass. And just who gave you this little thing? Was it Pan?”

Mallory was out of breath and couldn’t scream any more. She glared at the pirate, trying to snatch back the whistle, but the pirate jerked it away, and took her neck along with it. Mallory yelped as the cord bit into her skin, her spine straining to keep this uncomfortable position as the pirate yanked her forward.

The pirate studied it for a second more, then his eyes widened in realization. “Wait, if Pan gave you this…”

At the same time as he was figuring it out, Mallory saw Captain Flint walked out his quarters below.

“It’s a trap!” Ol’ Jackie gasped, fisting his hand around the whistle. Then he turned to shout the news to the men below, but that’s when Mallory pulled her arm back and landed a fist straight across his jaw.

Something in her hand cracked upon impact, but she almost didn’t feel it, especially when she saw the tooth that came flying out of Ol’ Jackie’s face. He reeled back, letting go of Mallory and the whistle simultaneously. As Captain Flint stopped to take in the commotion above him, perhaps not quite recognizing Mallory from this distance, Mallory snatched at her whistle as it sparkled freely in the air. Time seemed to slow as both girl and pirate fought for control. If Flint found out too soon, then he could disappear again, and Pan and the Lost Boys would never come to save her, and this would all be over before it began.

Mallory had to win. She didn’t have a choice.

Her fist closed around it just as Ol’ Jackie brought his head back up.

Ol’ Jackie turned his head, opening his mouth to shout, to warn the crew, to spoil the surprise, to tell Captain Flint to hide.

She brought the whistle to her lips.

"It’s _PAAAAN!”_

_SSSHHHRRREEEEEEEEEEE!_

A split-second after Ol’ Jackie’s cry, a shrill note pierced the air from her lips, louder than the crew members, louder than the waves, louder than even the wind that smothered everything else.

Then all hell broke loose.

Suddenly the air was filled with whooping and arrows, at the same time the crew below roared with shock and anger. All around her, from the arch, dropped down a dozen or more Lost Boys, attached to their own ropes, before landing safely onto the deck of the _Jolly Roger_.

The deck below turned into a cacophony of war cries and metal clashing as pirate and Lost Boy engaged in battle; Mallory could hardly believe it, but somehow those kids actually stood a fighting chance against these big brutes. Unbelievable.

Her attention was called back to her current situation when she heard the _shing_ of metal, and realized that Ol’ Jackie had just pulled out his own saber. She tried pushing off of the mast, to swing away from him, but it was too late.

Metal flashed in the air. Mallory felt the sharp swish of wind against her skin.

 _Snap_!

Suddenly, all the tension in the rope disappeared.

Mallory managed to utter one last scream before she fell.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

 

* * *

 

The deck rushed in to greet Mallory’s face.

The wind ripped the scream right from her throat, and she flailed helplessly as she tumbled to what was surely her death.

Unwillingly to witness her own death, Mallory closed her eyes, covering her face with her arms.

She sucked in her breath, what might be her last, and waited for impact.

But it never came.

Mallory could still feel the wind rushing, but she noticed she was no longer being dragged by gravity. Her hair was pulled from her face, and her stomach lurched with the sudden change of direction. Was she…rising?

That’s when she noticed the arms carrying her.

Eyes flying open, Mallory gasped. The world spun around her, the ship below, dizzyingly high. A terrified cry escaped her lips, unbidden, and her arms flew around the neck of her savior, whom she hadn’t yet considered.

She should’ve known who it was. A laugh next to her ear was instantly recognizable. “Ease up, buttercup. I can’t keep flying if you’re going to scream my ear off.”

Mallory whipped her head around, shocked, hair flying into her face. That didn’t stop her from slamming her fist into his back. “You! I should’ve known!”

“Yes, you probably should have,” Pan remarked, wincing slightly. “I also recommend not hitting me again, or I might lose focus and just _drop_ you.”

At this, he loosened her arms, and Mallory slid several inches. She cried out again, suddenly fearing he was actually going to let go, and clung to his neck for dear life. His arms returned an instant later, accompanied by his cackling that had them floating backwards.

Mallory wanted to punch him again, but knew better this time. She could only shake and twist in his arms, her feet kicking uselessly. How the hell was he even doing this? “Don’t do that! Put me down!”

“What? Why?” Peter looked genuinely surprised. He flicked his chin at the scene below, the Lost Boys in heated battle with the pirates. “This is the best seat in the house! Don’t you want to watch?”

"N-no!" Mallory glanced down, but the vertigo that made her stomach flip had her squeezing her eyes shut and, despite herself, turning and pressing her face under Pan's chin. Her fists clenched, pulling at his shirt, wanting to choke him. "How are you even doing this?"

"Happy thoughts and pixie dust!" Pan replied, even as Mallory realized that was a stupid question. Peter Pan could always fly in the books; this should be of no surprise to her, even if his answer sounded completely insane. "I'll have to show you sometime!"

"No thanks!" Mallory seized as they circled around the ship at frightening speed. Clearly Pan was a master of this flying thing, gliding as though he were carried on invisible wings. She was starting to get the feeling he was doing this on purpose, trying to make her sick. "Peter, I swear, if you don't put me down this instant —"

_BOOM!_

“Oh, dear.” her demand was interrupted by Peter’s rather calm remark to the sudden arrival of a cannonball — Pan deftly swerved out of the way, drifting easily on the winds as the Giant Ball of Death soared overhead, landing harmlessly into the ocean beyond. “Well, that’s not very gentlemanly of them. I’m carrying a helpless maiden!”

“Oh, for love of —” Mallory winced as another cannon fired off, resulting in another dizzying swirl of sky and sea. She was not made for flying, that’s for sure. Once she was sure she wasn’t going to puke, she finished, “Peter, put me back on land, or so help me, I will get us there myself!”

“Alright, alright,” Pan just rolled his eyes, looking more annoyed with her than the pirates trying to kill them. “Jeez, you just had to ask nicely.”

“I _did_!”

“As a matter of fact, you did not,” Peter replied, swooping low towards the ship. The breath was stolen from Mallory’s throat as he ducked under the sails, spun around a mast, and slammed his feet into the unsuspecting back of none other than Captain Flint, who grunted and fell flat on his face. “Ha! Take that you smarmy bastard!”

He shot up into the shrouds before anyone could take a swing at him. Shaking his head, Peter recollected himself, replacing the expression of devilish victory with a more understated smirk. He continued, “You never said please.”

“I — what?” Mallory caught herself, surprised. Then she had to think about it, and realized with a blush that he was right. She ducked her head, hating herself for having to admit, “Oh. Sorry.”

Then she inhaled, steeled her nerves as they swooped up over the ship again, and said, “Can you _please_ take me back to land? I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Well, why didn’t you say anything before?” Peter flashed her a grin, and suddenly they were rocketing up into the sky. Mallory had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from screaming again. Good lord, this was embarrassing.

Up and up they went. Mallory kept her eyes closed, waiting for descent, but it never came. “Peter!”

“Mallory, look!” he said in return, shouting over the wind. It was tremendously loud up here, not to mention cold. Mallory was positively shivering as she hung around Pan’s neck.

She pried her eyes open, peering over her hunched shoulder, down to the little green island below. It’s swooping mountains and valleys, the sparkling lagoon and white beaches, the hazy rainbow of waterfalls and lush forests. It looked positively majestic, even heavenly, like a tropical getaway in the Caribbean.

The very sight of it awed her. It looked so small from up here. So sweet, so peaceful. Not like it was filled with unimaginable dangers and a wicked boy for a King.

“I promised I’d show you my kingdom.” Pan crowed, and his voice sounded strangely proud. When Mallory looked up, she was startled to find the smile on his face seemed genuine. “So here it is! Neverland!”

Well, this was far more literal than she imagined. A little breathless, she looked back at Neverland, and wondered for the millionth time if maybe she was dreaming. This was all some crazy, terrible, amazing nightmare that didn’t seem to end.

“What do you think?” Peter asked, when Mallory didn’t respond immediately.

“It’s…” Honestly, she was starting to feel a little faint, perhaps from the thin air. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t think of a mean thing to say. “It’s beautiful. Like a dream.”

“Well, that’s the idea,” Peter sounded pleased by that, and Mallory couldn’t help but sigh with overwhelming relief as he started to sink. “Neverland’s the place of dreams. Children come here when they sleep — without them, this place wouldn’t exist.”

Mallory squinted, trying to focus on the words as her stomach did a balancing act in her stomach, upended by the change in movement. “Wait, then how…?”

She couldn’t finish her sentence, though, her throat locking up as another wave of nausea washed over her. Mallory clapped a hand over her mouth, refusing to throw up, and concentrated on that as the island grew bigger below them. Soon enough she could pick out individual leaves and branches, birds flying and screeching as they got too close. They came upon a cliff, on the opposite end from where the Lost Boys were battling the pirates.

Pan’s landing was surprisingly gentle. Still, Mallory couldn’t pull herself away from him fast enough, throwing herself to solid ground. The grass was bliss beneath her hands and knees, and she would’ve kissed the ground if Pan wasn’t still standing there. “Oh, thank god, that’s over.”

He harrumphed, planting his fists on his hips. “Oh, don’t be such a whiner. I can’t believe you think flying is so bad. Doesn’t everyone dream of that?”

“Probably not like that,” Mallory said. “And I don’t.”

Peter blinked at her. “You’ve never dreamt of flying? Not even once?”

She cast him a sour look, before brushing off her pants and turning away, facing the forest. “No. It’s more like…falling. Just falling.”

“That doesn’t sound much like a dream,” Pan snorted.

“Usually because it’s not,” Mallory rolled her eyes, throwing an irritated look over her shoulder. Pan returned it with a frown of his own. Whether he was more annoyed with her or her answer, she didn’t know. She also didn’t care. “So, are we heading back to camp or what? I’m starving.”

 

 *******

 

“So, tell me, Mallosaurus,” Peter Pan said, waving a stick as he led the way back to camp. “What do you usually dream about?”

Mallory eyed him warily. She had no idea where he got the stick, but it was rather long, and had several smaller branches attached that made good for whacking. They had been walking for about half an hour now, and for all Mallory knew, he could be leading them in circles. He didn’t seem to be in any rush, at least.

She was more bothered by the nickname, actually. Points for originality — no one ever called her _that one_ before. “Um, I don’t know. I dream about a lot of things. Does it matter?”

“Of course it does,” Pan threw her a look like this was obvious and she was being stupid. He threw out his hands, saying, “Dreams are who we are. They tell us all sorts of things about ourselves. They remind us of what we fear, what we want, what we could be. Maybe in your world they’re stupid little things you forget minutes after waking up, but here, on Neverland, they’re everything. So, I’ll ask again: What do you dream about the most?”

Mallory scowled at the ground, following Pan at a shuffle. She didn’t like having to think about this, not this hard, for someone like him. But Peter seemed to be stalling on purpose, and likely wouldn’t continue until she gave him what he wanted.

It was so personal, Mallory felt — that’s what Pan seemed to think, at least, what dreams said about you. Was it true? Maybe it didn’t matter. Mallory certainly didn’t think so. “Well, I guess…well, there is this _one_ dream I always get, I don’t know, from time to time. It’s…” Mallory smiled at her shoes, embarrassed despite herself. “No, no, it’s stupid, forget it.”

“What?” Peter stopped, his arms dropping. He looked disappointed, all pouty like a little child. Mallory didn’t like how innocent it made him look. Those crafty green eyes were far too nice to look at. “Oh, come on, you can’t tease me like this. Just tell me — how bad can it be?”

Mallory sighed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Boys. “Oh, fine. It’s,” she just snorted, throwing up a hand. “I-I dream about dancing. Like, you know, in a story book, all sparkling dresses and nice suits, in a golden dancing castle hall. Swirling colors and soft music and-and dancing with someone who doesn’t step on my feet, who can smile and life and make me forget everything…and I’m happy. I’m just happy.”

“Oh.” Pan said, his face inscrutable. He tossed his head, looking away to gaze further down the path. “You’re right, that _is_ pretty stupid.”

“Pff, well!” Mallory threw up her arms. Of course, she should’ve expected this reaction from him, and yet she was still offended, still upset. “You asked! It’s not my fault I dream of _stupid, boring_ things. God, you’re such a…”

Her rant dwindled into unintelligible mutterings, and Mallory kicked at the dirt in her frustration. Every time she showed any vulnerability to Pan, he threw it back in her face; it seemed like a game to him, seeing how many times he could embarrass her in a day or something. Why did she always fall for it?

It must be that face. It was always Pan’s eyes, that smirk that made Mallory feel unsure of herself, second guessing yet always eager to prove herself. For what? To make him smile? To make him laugh?

…well, it _was_ satisfying, in a way, even though he was a terrible person.

She could only sigh in defeat as Pan walked away, apparently unperturbed by her rage. Hangdog and more than a little exhausted, she followed him, rubbing her arm and deciding to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the day, to allow her ego to recover.

“Oh, look, a panther!”

“A _what_?” Mallory blinked, nearly running into Pan as he came to an abrupt stop. Shaking her head, she peered around him, into the clearing.

There, lying in a shaft of sunlight, lied sprawled the sleek black form a large animal, its tale flicking as its golden eyes fixed on the two teens that had just come across it. Its pupils narrowed as the panther drew its lips back, baring white teeth at them, a low growl in its chest.

Mallory wondered why it didn’t immediately attack them, or run away — until she saw the rope, and it clicked. Like her the other day, the panther had gotten caught in a Polekele trap, its foot trapped by a taut rope that it couldn’t break free from.

How long had it been here? Mallory couldn’t tell, but she could probably guess it was hungry right about now. And nothing looked more delicious than two unarmed fleshy things like her and Pan, just standing there like idiots. Pulling on his sleeve, Mallory tried to back away. “Uh, maybe we should go around…”

“Nonsense!” Pan brought up his arm, jumping back so it was now Mallory facing the panther. It shifted on its haunches, not quite crouched, but looking ready to defend itself should they get too close. “Go on, Mallory! Say hi!”

“Uh, no thank you.” Mallory remained frozen to the spot, even when he tried to push her closer. “I don’t think Bagheera wants to make any new friends today.”

“Well, then,” Pan said, she heard the sound of metal scraping on metal. She nearly jumped out of her shoes when he presented a dagger to her. Pan gave her a sharp-toothed grin, his eyes glittering in challenge. “Take care of it.”

Mallory gaped at him. She almost considered turning away, going back, but that tilt of his head, the way his smile seemed to say he knew that’s what she wanted to do, was what made her clench her jaw and snatch the dagger from his hand. She could only spit out a low, “Fine.” Before turning back towards the panther.

Golden eyes narrowed as Mallory took a hesitant step forward. An unwelcome shove from Pan sent her stumbling a few more steps, and Mallory just barely caught herself before she fell within range of the panther’s paws, which were the size of dinner plates. Mallory swallowed, straightening, and tried not think of one of those taking her head off in one swipe.

She raised her hands at the panther, as if she could somehow convince it she meant no harm. “H-hey there, big guy. How’s it – how’s it going?”

The panther just showed her his teeth again, a clear sign of what he thought of her gesture.

Mallory just nodded, completely understanding. She slowly edged closer, continuing to speak. “Yeah, yeah, no, I get it. Getting caught in a trap, being stuck here all day, must not be fun. I bet you’re just itching to get home, to chow down on some, er, some _not-human_ meat, right? You look, uh, pretty antsy. Maybe I can, uh, fix that?”

“Are you seriously talking to a dumb cat?” Peter called from his safe spot at the edge of the clearing.

“Shut up! I’m trying to concentrate!” Mallory snapped, casting him a dirty look over her shoulder, before switching her head back to the panther, afraid it might attack while she wasn’t looking. That was a favorite move for wildcats, attacking while their prey wasn’t looking at them. “I’m not going to hurt you, buddy, I promise.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not. Still, the panther eyed her with clear distrust as she drifted a little closer. The trap prevented it from standing upright — otherwise he probably would’ve attacked by now. Or maybe he was just waiting for her to turn her back on him, to give him the perfect chance to strike.

Mallory didn’t even know if it was a ‘he’ or a ‘she’ but a ‘he’ felt right for the moment. As she rounded near its tale, the dagger glittered in the sun. The panther tensed at the sight of it.

She paused, letting the panther appraise the weapon. “Look, Bagheera — I know this must suck for you, because it sure does for me, but I just want you to know, this, uh, this isn’t personal.”

Her hand clenched around the dagger, and Mallory winced. Of course she had to hold it in her broken hand. Switching it to her other hand, Mallory swallowed as she took one last step over the panther, closing the distance between them, dropping to a knee for better aim.

It was so close. She could see the rise and fall of the Bagheera’s side — oh, god, why did she give him a name? That just made this all so much worse — how it shone in the sunlight. She could even make out the nigh-invisible spots in its hide. Mallory glanced up, and met the gaze of the panther. It hadn’t moved since she approached. Maybe it was more tired than she realized.

Well, that just made her job easier.

Oh, god. Did she really have to kill it?  
  
Well, that’s what Peter Pan meant, didn’t it? Mallory could feel him watching her, probably with a stupid smile on his face. The dagger was heavy in her hand, and yet too light at the same time. Would it be strong enough to pierce his hide? How long would it take to die? Could she strike his heart, and make it quick? No, she had no idea where his heart was. She’d only puncture a lung, and it’d just die a slow death, drowning in its own blood…

 _No, no, no, no._ _Don’t think about that. Anything but that. Don’t name it, don’t think of pain, just – just do it –_

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

The panther sighed, a wave rippling across the length of its body. It closed its eyes, dropped its head, as if it had already accepted its fate.

Mallory swallowed, but she couldn’t remove the lump that had formed in her throat. Her hand dropped, the dagger falling to the ground. No, she couldn’t do such a thing. She _wouldn’t_.

“Mallory…” she heard Pan’s warning behind her.

No. He was right. She still had to do something. She couldn’t leave the panther like this.

That’s why Mallory raised her hand. The dagger gleamed overhead. It held there, for what felt like an eternity, as Mallory took aim.

Then she slammed to the ground.

_Snap!_

Several things happened at once.

First, the rope breaking as her dagger cut through it as easy as butter. Because of how tight it was, the rope recoiled on both ends, and one end lashed her across the face, stinging, and sent Mallory sprawling back, crying out in pain.

At the same time, the panther brought its head up, perhaps surprised he was dead, then leaping to his feet, finally free.

Tail lashing back and forth, Bagheera let out a furious snarl that had Mallory forgetting entirely about the rope burn on her face, and doing her best to scramble away from the wild animal as fast as she could. It rounded on her, rolling its shoulders as it made ready to pounce.

Mallory could only cover her face, crying out, “Pan!” as the panther launched at her.

But instead of getting five hundred pounds of fur, muscle, and teeth landing on her, Mallory watched as the panther went _over_ her head. He touched down lightly on the other end of the clearing, far away from either of the teens, throwing the both of them one last low roar, before disappearing into the jungle, its tail flicking one last time before melting into the shadows.

Mallory just lied there, out of breath, her gaze fixed on the place where the panther had gone. Was it coming back? Had it truly just left them there, unharmed?

“Well, that was disappointing,” Pan’s complaint brought her back to the present. Mallory pulled herself back to a sitting position, looking towards him. Pan had his arms crossed, frowning like the last of his favorite snack had been eaten. “That’s not what I meant when I said ‘take care of it’.”

Mallory huffed, taking a second to recover before getting back to her feet. Going back to Pan, she thrust the dagger back to him, being deliberately rough when she jabbed the hilt into his gut. “Yeah, well, you weren’t specific, were you? You said take care of it, and I did. The panther’s gone. Can we keep going now?”

Pan seemed to consider it for a moment, taking the dagger. Like a magic trick, his hands twirled around it, and the blade disappeared into thin air. “Hm, I suppose you’re right. Maybe it’ll come back to eat you later. Who knows!”

He said this last part with a smile, as though he might be looking forward to it. Mallory just rolled her eyes, and could only sigh with relief as Pan once more took the lead, crossing the clearing and returning to the trek. For a challenge, that was by far the most terrifying yet. And Mallory thought _pirates_ were bad.

Then again, Bagheera hadn’t tried to kill her. That still stuck in her mind, even hours later. Mallory rubbed the welt on her cheek, the one she had received for freeing the panther. Did the panther just not think her worth it?

They continued to walk in silence, and Mallory was reminded of the events from the night previous. Her ankle still hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as before, and the splint still held. She just wished she had her sword to put more weight on, otherwise she’d probably be fine.

Well, that’s not true. Leaning on a tree to keep her balance, Mallory winced as a jolt of pain went down her hand. She must’ve broke something when punching Ol’ Jackie in the face. That definitely hadn’t been her best move, and now the pain was at the forefront in her mind. It was distracting, and it was making this trek infinitely longer than it really was.

It took perhaps an hour before Mallory actually took a good look at her right hand. Her palm was swollen, right near her thumb, under her index finger. It hurt to move a single knuckle, and it was too much to make herself force anything to happen. Yes, something was definitely broken.

She closed her eyes shut, biting her lip. Mallory wondered if she could wish her bones healed, if it would last; even if it didn’t, she was willing to try, if just to ease the pain for a little while.

But all Mallory got for her efforts was another prickly jolt in her hand, and the sound of Peter Pan stopping ahead, the crunching footsteps coming to a halt. Mallory refused to look at him when he glanced behind at her. “…What did you just wish for?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, dropping her hand and pressing it to her side.

“No, you wished for something,” Pan said, pointing a finger at he, stepping closer as Mallory, too, had stopped walking. “I felt it. The wish didn’t work, so it must’ve been important. What was it?”

Mallory should’ve known that was a stupid thing to do, that she shouldn’t have tried while in his presence. She leaned away as he got close, but didn’t step back. _Don’t show fear_. “It’s nothing, Pan. Just mind your own business.”

“Wishes _are_ my business, girl.” Pan snapped, scowling. Mallory had to keep herself from smiling at getting such a reaction out of him. Apparently Pan didn’t know everything after all. Interesting. “Hey, don’t walk away from me!”

Mallory had tried darting around him, to continue down the path and just get over this stupid confrontation, but Pan was faster. With those inhuman reflexes, he grabbed her arm, kept her from escaping. He pulled it up, and looked like he was ready to say something else, but then his eyes flicked to her hand, and his mouth shut.

Mallory tried pulling away, but there was no way Peter was letting her go anytime soon. She was highly aware that he had her wounded hand, and the way he was grabbing her arm was not making it feel any better. “Pan, could you ease up a little? You’re hurting me.”

She didn’t expect him to care, but she was surprised when Pan loosened his grip; not letting go entirely, exactly, but stepping closer, bring up her hand to examine it more closely. He held her hand within both of his, twisting it this way and that, his touch light, almost kind. Mallory winced, closing her eyes, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Pan to do something cruel, mean-spirited, make it worse — but it never came.

“You have a boxer’s fracture,” he remarked, prompting Mallory to open her eyes again. She glanced at Pan’s face, still expecting that malice, but only saw clinical appraise. “I’ve seen it before, when the Boys get into fights with each other. It can happen when you forget to keep your thumb on the outside when punching.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Which one did you hit?”

“Ol’ Jackie,” The answer left her lips before Mallory could think otherwise. She just shrugged when his eyebrows shot up. “He was in the Crow’s Nest, the first to grab me. He tried stealing the whistle. So I punched him.”

“Oh, I remember him,” Pan made a face of disgust, as he flipped her hand over again, tracing the inside of her palm with his finger. This was so strange, and so unlike him, that Mallory started to blush. She both liked and hated the touch. “Nasty blighter. He stabbed Twigs once. I’ve been itching for the chance to get back at him, but seems like you beat me to it. He’ll be glad to know when we get back.”

A smile lit his face, and Mallory felt herself returning it as their gazes met, something genuine passing between them.

Seconds past without either of them saying anything, just staring at each other. She saw Pan’s smile start to fade, replaced by something she couldn’t read, and Mallory felt her heart skip a beat. This was…this was not… _at all_ …  
  
Mallory cleared her throat, breaking eye contact, looking everywhere but at him, pulling her hand back and pressing it to her chest. “You better hope so. This hurts like a bi—”

“Ah! Language, Mallosaur,” Peter pressed a finger to her lips before she could curse. “That’s not very ladylike of you, is it?”

She swiped his hand away, sniffing. “Oh, please, like that matters here.”

“Of course it does! You’re in my Kingdom, after all, I expect you to be on your best behavior,” Pan said, grinning as he flicked her nose. She made a sound of complaint, but he was already walking away. Whatever was going on in that strange little moment before was completely gone now, and Mallory wondered if it even happened at all. “It’s just your hand, after all, it won’t slow us down. We’ll be back at camp before nightfall, and perhaps then we’ll find something to fix it.”

“You can’t just use your magic or something?” Mallory screwed up her lips, still holding her hand as she scrambled to keep up with him. Pan was practically striding through the forest, far faster than any wise person should. “Wouldn’t it heal faster that way?”  
  
“Psh, no! Why waste my energy?” Pan said, laughing at the very idea. “Live and learn, Mallory. Live and learn!”

 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the hiatus, it was just school and work and stuff and I hated that I left you guys waiting for so long. But I haven't abandoned this fic! Anyways, enjoy!

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

 

That evening, the Lost Boys celebrated their victory.

The bonfire was particularly large, and the boys danced around it when they weren't busy cooking or eating. The most Mallory could do was just sit around, eat some chicken brisket, and let Barnaby-Twigs wrap up her wrist.

"What's up with you and snappin' joints?" Barnaby-Twigs muttered, apparently annoyed that Pan had him tending to her instead of letting him join the rest of the fun. "I thought girls were s'posed to be good at staying outta trouble?"

"Oh, girls get in trouble all the time," Mallory sighed, resting her chin on her good hand. "We just know how to get away with it."

Barnaby-Twigs threw her a skeptical look, wrinkling his dirt-smudged nose, before he just shrugged. He tightened the knot over her wrist, checking to make sure the bandage and splint was tight enough. "Well, looks like you need more practice. The sprain ain't too bad, but with this and your gammy leg you won't be doin' much for a bit."

"Thanks for the professional diagnosis," Mallory said, but couldn't help but smile a little at Twig's snort. "What? You still too good for me?"

"Too good for a _girl_? Pfft," Barnaby-Twigs sniffed, jumping to his feet and brushing his hands on his pants. "I just think you don't belong here. You better hope that storytellin' of yours is good enough for Peter."

"Yeah," Mallory's smile slipped off her face, and she frowned at her feet. A part of her was frustrated that they didn't take her seriously, that she wasn't considered worthy of Neverland. Even if she herself didn't _want_ to belong here, Mallory was having a hell of a time trying to get Matty back, and she'd like some appreciation, you know? If not from Peter Pan, at least from one of these other guys. "I hope so, too."

At least she had Flint's sword back. Even though she could barely use it, Mallory felt better having it in her hands. She spun it around, the point burrowing into the dirt, as the Lost Boys commenced with their little pow-wow.

She watched this dance, mesmerized by the golden flames and the pulsating shadows, going round and round… The singing and music certainly helped too, if one could call it music. Beating drums and whoops, a pseudo-Indian chant, exactly like you'd expect boys to act when living off the legends of Native Americans. Mallory wasn't even sure where they got these ideas from, if they were technically immortal, if they came from the past.

How old were they really? Did they do this, all the time? Didn't they ever get bored? Didn't they ever want to... grow up?

As soon as Mallory thought it, she shook her head. No, no, Lost Boys never wanted to grow up, did they? That was the whole point. Why? That was a harder question to answer. There was a certain allure to never growing up, sure. But how long could you be in stasis like that and not lose your mind?

Maybe they were just afraid.

Mallory blinked, surprised by this conclusion, but before she could ponder more deeply on this concept, a sudden voice drew her attention to the head of the fire. More specifically, Peter Pan's throne. The titular owner was standing on top, one foot on an armrest and his arms held out, announcing to the dancing Lost Boys, "Hear ye, hear ye, Conquerors of Neverland and Pirate Slayers! I bid you good evening, and as your host, I hope you're having a grand ol' time! Now, if you could all get yourselves settled and something to eat, we can finally get to tonight's entertainment! Mallory?"

She jumped a little in surprise when everyone's gaze turned towards her. Mallory didn't expect to have a grand introduction to her storytelling, and it occurred to her that this may be another challenge from Pan. Perhaps he was testing her mettle once again, her confidence in her own abilities.

Not about to be one-upped, Mallory straightened up on her spot on the log, raising her chin and replying, in as smooth a voice she could muster, and mimicking Pan's grandiose verbiage as well as she could, said, "Well, of course! I'd hate to disappoint any of you."

"I'd hate so, too," Peter returned with a wolfish grin, before flopping down into his seat. The boy with the scarred face offered him a plate of food, which he took without so much as a glance. "Thank you, Felix. Well, Mallory, what tale are you going to spin for us tonight?"

Ah, another game. Mallory smiled primly, the sort of way you would to someone rude you didn't like but had to pretend you did. As everyone settled down, finding their spots around the fire and at her feet, Mallory flushed under the unshielded warmth of the fire, blinking away the glare and keeping an eye on Pan out of the corner of her eye. Now that everyone's eyes were off of him, Pan had gone to leaning on one hand, and she noticed that the expression on his face had darkened quite a few degrees. Oh, what surprise, the baby boy didn't like it when no one was paying attention to him. Boo hoo.

Hands on her knees, she cleared her throat, and began.

"Well, I thought I'd start off where I left off last time." She said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. The Lost Boy's rapt attention was caught in the white of their eyes, made bright and nearly glowing by the fire. Over two dozen gazes, all on her. Mallory had a hard time trying not to look like she enjoyed stealing Pan's limelight. "When was that again? Oh, right, Mother Gothel, who had just kidnapped the baby Rapunzel and taken her to her little secluded tower in a small valley, hidden somewhere in the wilderness of Corona's kingdom."

She took a deep breath, then began: "So, for seventeen years Rapunzel lived high up in that tower, never once her feet touching the ground since she was taken that night as a babe. She was well hidden there, where none of the King's men could find her, and Mother Gothel could leave Rapunzel alone for days on end without fearing her daughter escaping.

"It was easy at first. The tower had a set of stairs winding up its interior, old stonework that promised never to fail. It was easy to climb up and down, so long as Mother Gothel's arthritis was kept at bay. But as Rapunzel grew older, and showed a curious side in her unquenchable desire to read and learn, Gothel knew that it wouldn't take long for the girl to find a way out. So she blocked both doorways, hiding both exits so that no one could come in or out of the tower either way. And Rapunzel was none the wiser."

A hand shot in the air. "Then how did Mother Gother get back into the tower without the stairs?"

"Good question!" Mallory smiled, glad that at least the Lost Boys remembered their manners this time. "Well, remember how I said Mother Gothel couldn't cut Rapunzel's hair to preserve its magic? See, funny thing, hair gets really long when you don't cut it. And Gothel let it. So Rapunzel grew. And as she grew, so did her hair - long, thick locks the color of sunlight, pure and more rich and beautiful than all the gold in the world. It was also strong, strong enough to climb if you threw it out the window, hanging from a hook, in such a way that it allowed Mother Gothel in and out as she pleased. All she had to do was call out, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!' And Rapunzel would come to the window and gleefully throw out her hair, welcoming her mother home. By seventeen, her hair was over eighty feet long! And it took Rapunzel three hours every day to clean it and brush it, keeping it perfect for her mother.

"Some of you probably don't know this, but when some kids grow older, they get more curious and independent. They want to fly from the nest, so to speak, go out in the world on their own. Which was something Gothel feared would happen with Rapunzel, who seemed to grow up so fast, even though she didn't grow any faster than any other child - Gothel tried her best, but she just couldn't crush the wanderlust from Rapunzel's heart. And Gothel couldn't just let Rapunzel go, either, she was the only way Gothel could remain young. And if Rapunzel escaped, there was the chance she found out about Gothel's true nature. What would Rapunzel do, then? She wouldn't return to Gothel, surely. Not to the witch who stole a helpless baby from her loving parents, who now thought her dead.

"But there wasn't nothing she could do to stop Rapunzel from seeing the lights on her birthday, those that glowed in the thousands, far away in the night sky every year. There was no explanation for them, no clue as to what they might really be. But they were so beautiful and calming, as strange and wonderful as the aurora borealis you see way up north. And Rapunzel dreamed of seeing these lights up close, to learn their meaning, why they only happened once a year, exactly on her birthday.

"And Rapunzel wasn't unintelligent. She knew how to read and write. She could cook and clean, do math, play chess, paint and sing - all basic skills Gothel taught her, things every well-to-do girl should know, to prepare herself for the outside world. She hadn't a clue that Gothel had no intention to let her leave, and Rapunzel had hoped that now, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, that she may finally be allowed to see the world beyond her little tower. It was, after all, getting a little cramped. Rapunzel had already read all of her books a thousand times over; she's painted every wall, every surface that could be painted. She'd already sung the same songs a thousand times, baked a thousand of the same pies, swept the floor thousands of times. She knew all the hiding places, all the little nooks and crannies that you might play in when you were little, but were now too small for a young woman like Rapunzel.

"And Rapunzel was lonely. She only had one friend, a quiet chameleon named Pascal, who also wished to leave the tower and see the lights. Rapunzel's desire to meet new people, see new things, was greater than any fear or danger the world might hold for her. So when Mother Gothel came to her tower that morning, shouting ' _Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair_ ,' Rapunzel did so with hope in her heart and a smile on her face.

"Mother Gothel returned with food and paint for Rapunzel, and it took the girl several times to get Gothel's attention long enough to ask her question. ' _Mother Gothel, I wanted to know_ -'

Here Mallory tested her voice acting skills, putting on an older, slightly sing-songy voice, with a condescending tone. "' _Not now, child. I must see what new wrinkles I have in this mirror_.'

" _But I wished to ask_ -'

" _Not now, child. I must count the gray hairs that appeared in the night I was away_.'

" _Please, it's important -_ '

" _More important than your own mother? Please, Rapunzel, don't be so inconsiderate. And have you been eating? You're looking a little thin_.'

Mallory returned to her regular narrating voice: "Mother Gothel must, of course, have a taste of the golden flower before hearing anything Rapunzel had to say. Rapunzel, too excited to wait, broke a record in how fast she could sing that lullaby, and poof! Mother Gothel was young again.

"And Rapunzel said to her, ' _Mother Gothel, there's only one thing I want for my birthday. I was, well, I was wondering if maybe I could leave the tower? I mean, I'm almost grown up now. And there's so much I want to see…'_

"But Mother Gothel just laughed. ' _Leave the tower? Why would you ever want that? Don't you know what dangers lie out there, just lying in wait to snap up a naive little girl like you, Rapunzel? The ruffians and thieves, scoundrels and quicksand! Monsters that will hunt you in the night, and the plague that will get you in your sleep! No, no, Rapunzel, I can't let you leave. Besides, towers are respectable homes for maidens, don't you think? Oh, come now, Rapunzel, don't cry. Mother always knows best._ '

Mallory could see the irritation in the boys' eyes, and she was pleased that she got them to dislike the villain as much as she intended. Mallory could only shrug and continue: "And that was that. Rapunzel could not longer make her argument, as Mother Gothel was no longer willing to listen. But secretly, Gothel was still afraid, and so she locked all the windows, save for her exit, hoping to discourage Rapunzel and keep her from gazing longingly at a world she couldn't have. Mother Gothel couldn't stay, of course, to make sure Rapunzel did anything stupid. She had to leave, take care of more personal business, and once more left the tower, leaving Rapunzel alone with her only friend, Pascal, to pace and ponder and sigh in that lonely tower.

She took a deep breath, and started with a new gust of energy. "Now, on the _other_ side of the kingdom were three men hopping along the roofs of the palace of Corona. These three men were Flynn Rider and the brothers Stabbington, thieves who came to steal the crown of the Lost Princess, which lied in wait for the return of its cherished owner. The crown was kept under lock and key at all times, guarded by two dozen heavily-armed and highly-trained soldiers of the Royal Army, and was nigh unreachable unless you were the King himself…or you happened to be a very clever thief. And Flynn Rider was quite clever indeed.

"And you should know, Flynn Rider was not just _any_ clever thief. Oh no, he was the most notorious in all the land, wanted in several kingdoms, and never having served a single jail sentence in his life. Flynn was quite good at what he did, and yet he still dreamed of having a castle of his own, of a life of wealth and easy living...but he was just a thief, and thieves don't deserve happy endings.

"Instead, he and the Stabbington brothers slipped into the castle vault from the roof, lowered in on a length of rope. With their backs turned, none of the guards noticed Flynn, and he made sure to be very quiet, as any good thief knows. He hung right above the crown, perched on its marble pedestal, and had just slipped it into his bag when in front of him, one of the guards sneezed.

"Now, Flynn was a clever thief, but even the cleverest of thieves had their weaknesses. In Flynn's case, it was that he had a funny way of never keeping his mouth shut," at this, Mallory threw a not-so-furtive look at Pan, who returned the look with one raised eyebrow, his expression a cross between offended and impressed. "Flynn loved to brag, always have the last word, even if it ruined everything. And this was no different; when the guard sneezed, Flynn could only smirk and say, ' _Ugh, hay fever_?'. The guard, thinking nothing of it at first, only smiled and said yes, before he did a double-take and discovered the thief that had broken into the vault. But before he could go after Flynn, he was zipped back up to the roof by the Stabbington brothers.

"Flynn had effectively ruined any stealth or subtlety his job title could afford, and suddenly the entire palace guard were hot on their tails. The Stabbington brothers were not happy with Flynn's unprofessional behavior, but there isn't a lot of time to argue when you have arrows shot at your head. They race across the rooftops, down the hill, across the bridge, and into the massive forests of Corona. The royal guard was still hot on their heels; at the head of the charge was a white stallion named Maximus, the prized ride of the guard's captain, and a fierce soldier of Corona in his own right.

"The three thieves make the mistake of stopping for a break to catch their breath, at which point Flynn finds wanted posters of all three of them. He is upset, not to find that he had a large bounty on his head and that the kingdom of Corona want him dead, but that the sketch artist failed to get his nose right. Unfortunately, Flynn doesn't have a lot of time to complain about it, because the guard have found them again!"

There was an audible tension in the air now, and Mallory didn't fail to notice how some of the boys were leaning forward, entirely rapt. She smiled, and raised one finger, "However, they don't get very far, quickly finding themselves in a dead end, surrounded by high rock walls. Flynn turns to the Stabbington brothers, offering that they give him a boost first, so that he may pull them up afterwards. However, the Stabbington brothers see through Flynn's ploy, accurately guessing that he will betray and abandon them as soon as he is at the top.

"So they ask for the satchel first, and Flynn tries to protest, but the Stabbington brothers are resolute, and Flynn reluctantly hands it over. Appeased, the brothers Stabbington lift Flynn up, just as Maximus and his charge come around the corner. The brothers reach up for Flynn, but he has a smile on his face and the satchel in his hand; the brothers never asked to _keep_ it, after all.

"And thus the clever Flynn Rider finds himself running for his life on his own from the Royal guard. This time, Maximus is close, and he will not allow Flynn to escape with the satchel or the crown of the lost princess inside. However, things get turned on its head when Flynn, jumping over some logs and grabbing a find, suddenly finds himself flying around a tree, before he lands on the Captain of the guard just as he comes around. The Captain is knocked out of his seat and Flynn takes his place; Flynn, thinking he's home free, takes the reigns and snaps them, about to make his daring escape with both the stolen crown and the stolen horse.

"But the horse suddenly comes to a dead stop. Flynn doesn't realize it, but he has landed on Maximus, a horse so brave and true that he will not tolerate a dishonorable man to ride him. Flynn only realizes his mistake too late, and by then Maximus is already trying to get the satchel back, snapping with his mouth at the bag and nearly taking Flynn's leg with it.

"It's a mad scramble off the devoted horse, and Flynn has to fight with Maximus over the satchel — but in their horseplay, the two accidentally send the bag flying….over a cliff, where it goes over and would have fallen to the bottom of the valley, had it not been for one lonely tree. The handle of the satchel is saved by only one branch on that lonely tree, and it hangs precariously from its strap off the branch. Flynn and Maximus run after it, trying to beat each other, with Flynn just barely keeping the lead. Soon enough, both find themselves on this lonely tree hanging over the ravine, and Flynn has just reached the satchel, crying out in victory, when the tree trunk, not strong enough for the weight of both a full-grown horse and man, snaps.

"The two go tumbling down the ravine, screaming at the top of their lungs. They are separated in the fall, with Maximus landing in a soft patch of grass, while Flynn ends up hiding some twenty feet away behind a rock. Maximus immediately gets up and starts searching for Flynn, who still has the satchel. Flynn, looking for a better place to hide, is about to climb a cliff wall covered in plants, only to discover an empty tunnel behind the vine. Curious, he goes inside, wandering through a long dark tunnel. On the other side, he finds himself in a small valley, with a field of flowers, a small lake and, most importantly, a single tower standing at the very center.

"Flynn Rider, not being the man to question such things as strange towers abandoned in the middle of nowhere, considers it the perfect place to hide from Maximus and the rest of the guard until it's safe. Not daunted in the least bit by its height, Flynn climbs up the side of the tower, using two arrows the guard shot at him as anchors. He reaches the top window and slips inside. The tower is dark and quiet, and Maximus cannot find his trail.

"For now, Flynn is safe. He slams the window shut behind him, and is just about to admire the stolen crown, when something heavy and metal smacks him on the back of the head, and the world goes dark." Mallory sat back, and let the silence stretch for two seconds before she sighed, as though exhausted, and said, "Well, that's all I have for tonight!"

A collective groan rose up from her audience, boys slumping forward as all the tension broke at her conclusion. There was something especially cruel and delightful in ending on a cliffhanger, Mallory realized, and couldn't help but grin at their frustration.

"No fair!" One boy cried, shaking a fist. Nibs, from the looks of it. "I want a real ending."

"Yeah! This one stinks!" Another said.

"Oh, come on now," Mallory chided, giving them a fake pout, planting her hands on her hips. "If I ended the story then, it wouldn't be much of a story, would it? Don't be such a bad sport, everyone knows good things come to those who wait. And I promise you, I'll have more tomorrow night."

There was some grumbling to that, but no one else offered any complaints or criticisms. Then a slow clap fills the air, and everyone turned their head to look behind them, at Pan, who put his hands together in what Mallory could only describe as an ironic gesture. "Well done, Mallory. For a second there, I actually thought you might fail to live up to your potential. But I see our decision from the earlier night has held true. Well, I think that concludes for tonight's entertainment, don't you think, boys? What a lovely bedtime story to fall asleep to."

Mallory made a face, a little disgruntled at her oration being dumb-down to a _bedtime_ _story_. Even if, technically, it was true. Still, the way Pan said it made it sound like Mallory was reading _Goodnight, Moon_ or something equally simple and childish.

"Aw, now?" A boy complained.

"I ain't even tired yet!" Another said. This time, Mallory recognized Barnaby-Twigs, and would've smirked at his little pout if Pan hadn't already ruined her mood.

But just like that, everyone had forgotten about her, now focused on Pan again. Which was probably his intention. Beside him, the older boy — Felix, Mallory remembered the name — whispered something into Pan's ear. Pan tilted his head, considering whatever it was Felix suggested, before raising his hand to quiet the protests. The Lost Boys silenced at once. Pan said, "I think, after a day like today, we all deserve some rest. After all, there will still be more pirates for us to fight tomorrow, right?"

Mallory found that excuse to be rather lacking, but surprisingly it was enough to settle the boys. Everyone sighed, and a few yawned; the Lost Boys were just that, boys who needed serious nap time. And Mallory wasn't going to complain so long as Pan's trick actually worked.

As everyone got up and found their usual sleeping spots, Mallory used her sword as a crutch of sorts to get her to her tree — Mallory wondered when she started calling it that, and wondered if it was inappropriate. Nothing on Neverland could really belong to her, and if she started considering anything here as such, did that mean she was getting too comfortable? Because getting comfortable in Neverland was the last thing she wanted. What if Pan never let her leave?

Speaking of.

She approached Pan, who was busy playing with what appeared to be a compass. With one hand, Mallory pulled off the whistle hanging from her neck, and held it out to him. "I think this is yours."

There really was no reason for her to go out of her way like this, but Mallory was wary of any tricks Pan might pull. Besides, she wanted to speak to him anyways, and this seemed as good a reason to start as any.

Pan blinked, staring at the golden whistle for a second before looking up to smile at Mallory. He raised a hand, pressed it against hers, closing her fingers over the whistle. "Oh, you can keep it. Returning gifts is rude, you know, Mallosaur. Besides, you can still use the whistle to call for help, or whenever a silly girl likes you gets lost on the island."

"Hmph," Mallory pursed her lips. Pan's skin was warm, but luckily the insult distracted her from such weird thoughts. She withdrew her hand, held it to her chest. Mallory wasn't about to put the whistle back on in front of him. "Well, thanks, I guess. But actually, I...I wanted to ask you something."

The reaction she got was exactly what Mallory expected from Pan by now. He squinted at her slightly, leaning back in his seat and fixing her with a mischievous look. "Is that so?"

"Uh, yeah," Mallory scowled at the dirt at her feet. It was starting to become a common desire to punch Pan in his smug little face; this instance was certainly one of them. "I just wanted to know why you took my brother."

" _Why_?" Pan repeated with emphasis, tilted his head ever so slightly. It reminded her of a snake, or maybe a cat, analyzing its prey.

"Yeah, why. You took him for a reason, right?" Mallory said. "He's too old to be a Lost Boy, so you didn't need him for that. It's something else. It has to be."

"And how do you know if I didn't just take dear old Mathias because I felt like it?" Pan pointed out with a cheeky little smile.

"Because that's not how you think," Mallory retorted, giving a little annoyed toss of her head. She kept her voice low, not wanting to draw attention to this conversation as the clearing around them quieted with sleeping boys. "You don't do things like that just because you feel like it. You must have a-a plan, or something."

Pan studied her for a second, his expression inscrutable, spinning the compass in his hands. Then he shrugged, coming to a stand. Mallory stepped back as he said, "Well, well, you know me even better than I thought, Mallory. I guess there's more to you than just a pretty face and a silver tongue, huh?"

"So there _is_ a reason?" Mallory said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice at finally getting something right. "What is it?"

But Pan just smiled enigmatically, tapping her on the nose. "Oh, but you already know the answer to that, Malzipan."

Mallory blinked, flinching at his touch. She shook her head, staring at Pan in bewilderment. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? How was that possible? She didn't think anyone else even knew… "Wait, you mean —"

Pan just winked at her, stepping backwards, then turning on his heel and heading for the edge of camp. Mallory couldn't finish the sentence, rendered speechless by his seemingly omniscience. She could only stand there dumbly, watching as Pan disappeared into the darkness of the jungle.

There was no way…

Unfortunately, there wasn't much else Mallory could do about the subject, with Pan gone. Heading back to her tree, the wink seemed to repeat over and over again in Mallory's head; there was no doubt in her mind that she and Pan were at a complete understanding over one another about why Mathias was here on Neverland.

Still. That didn't tell her what _Pan_ needed him for.

She sighed. Of course Pan managed to avoid telling her what Mallory really wanted to know. Surprise, surprise.

Reaching the top of the wooden staircase, Mallory rested Flint's sword against the side of the tree and was about to jump inside her little nook.

Except someone was already inside.

And it wasn't a Lost Boy.

"Well, it's about time."

A woman, dressed in a roughly-hewn dress and corset, sitting cross-legged on the bedmat. She had blonde, curly hair pulled back and an irritated look on her face. Her skin seemed to sparkle, although that had to be a trick of the light.

"Who're you?" Mallory stumbled back, caught off guard. Was this another one of Pan's little games? Who was this woman? Where had she come from?

"I've been waiting for some time to meet you, Mallory Farthing," She regarded Mallory with sharp blue eyes. "My name is Tinkerbell. We have something to discuss."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus! Ugh, I wish I had a longer chapter for you guys, but I have each chapter planned out for certain events, and this one only turned out to be five pages long-ish. Idk, it gets what I want it to get across. Plot thickens! Backstory hints! I'm slowly pushing this story into AU territory, which you may notice here. Tinker Bell will have more to do with Peter's backstory than anything that was shown in the show.
> 
> And I just wanted to send a shout-out to everyone who's been leaving reviews even though this fic seemed dead for a while. Especially Sonic Key, who apparently has spent a lot of time with this fic. Thank you so much for your love! I really appreciate it.
> 
> The next chapter should be good. I've got something really fun planned ;)

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

"So," said Tinker Bell, picking idly at a leaf inside the hollow. She carried an air of indifference in her tone. "You must be the girl I've been hearing about. Is it true you stole Captain Flint's sword?"

It was, in fact, in Mallory's hand, raised and pointed at the blonde woman. Mallory didn't say anything, still a little on edge; Mallory knew to be suspicious of every resident in Never Land, and this woman was no different — although she was considerably older than the others Mallory met. This Tinker Bell looked like a full grown adult. Although if Pan was anyone to go by, that was hardly an indicator of her actual age. Her curly hair was held back by a green band, and much like the other residents of Never Land, her clothes were earthy toned, crafted from plant material.

Nevertheless, Tinker Bell — if this was really her, she looked nothing like the from the storybooks — seemed to recognize the blade. Her eyes glittered at the sword aimed at her, not appearing the least bit concerned that it was aimed at her throat. "Well, I guess it is. Have you actually _fought_ anyone with it, though?"

"…Um, no." Finally, Mallory found her voice. She shifted nervously on her feet. Tinker Bell's ease at the threat was disconcerting. Finding her gumption again, Mallory forced her expression to be hard again, and demanded, "Y-you're Tinker Bell? I thought you were supposed to be a fairy."

The woman's eyes flashed, blue and wide. "How did you know that? No one —" Then she shook her head, raising her hand as if catching herself. "You know what, no, never mind. Yes, I'm a fairy. Or, I _was_ , once upon a time ago."

"What? Why, what happened?"

"Never you mind," Tinker Bell sniffed, scowling at Mallory. Was it just her, or were people on this island really stingy with their backstories? "This isn't about me. This is about Peter. I've come with a warning for you."

"Pan?" Mallory repeated, her eyes flicking side to side. While the grove was quiet and empty of nearly all its Boys, Mallory was worried Pan might suddenly appear, find this intruder in his camp. Would Mallory get in trouble for just talking to Tinker Bell. She had no idea how much relevance the storybook tales had any effect on the world she was currently living in. Were Pan and Tinker Bell even friends here? Why was Mallory only meeting Tinker Bell now? "Does he know you're here?"

"No, but I suppose he will eventually," Tinker Bell shrugged, examining her fingernails. "But it's all right. He trusts me."

Now _that_ was a little hard to believe. Mallory scoffed, "I didn't think Pan trusted anyone."

"He rarely does," Tinker Bell nodded, smiling slightly. It was an enigmatic smile, like the Mona Lisa, but Mallory couldn't tell if it was sincere or not. "But I've known Pan longer than anyone. I'm the reason he's even here at all. But that's beside the point; I don't have to tell you that he's dangerous. Right now, Mallory, you can't trust Pan, or anyone on this island."

Mallory tilted her head; the sword was still raised, and her arm was getting a little tired. She lowered it ever so slightly. "Wouldn't that apply to you as well? And why bother telling me that? Just because you know my name doesn't mean you know _me_."

"Hmm, I guess you're right," Tinker Bell raised an eyebrow, considering the point for a moment before nodding. "Clever girl. Well, let's just say I have a special interest, okay? You've come to take your brother back home. If you succeed, I want to go with you."

"Wait, you've seen my brother? Matt?" Mallory gasped, the sword dropping instantly. Her heart skipped a beat — did Tinker Bell know what was going on? Could Mallory finally get some real answers around here? She was really starting to hate this game of Pan's, trying to figure out his plan. She knew only pieces, but not how to put them together. "Why does Pan want him? Where is he?"

"No, I haven't seen him," Tinker Bell made a face, flicking a hand. Immediately, Mallory's shoulders drooped in disappointment. Tinker Bell frowned at her, noticing this, and continued, "Sorry, but I can't tell all those Lost Boys apart. As for your other questions, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. Pan trusts me with his plan and not blab about it to anyone else. Did you really think I'd tell you?"

"No, you don't understand," Mallory said, leaning in and bracing herself against the edge of the tree nook and peering in so she could stare Tinker Bell right in the eye. Perhaps it was too earnest, too desperate, but Mallory didn't care. "I have to find him! I have to get Matt home! Pan kidnapped him and my mother doesn't believe magic's involved. Or won't admit it, I don't know, I don't really get her. Point is, I have to show her. Please, you have to help me!"

Tinker Bell leaned back a little, frowning in return and appraising Mallory for a long second in silence. She almost looked skeptical, bewildered. "…you came here, willingly?"

"Yeah, so?" Mallory snapped, losing her patience. She was getting tired of this back-and-forth. Answers! "Will you help me or not? One way or another, I'm getting off this fracking island. You want off, too? Then you better give me something in return."

Tinker Bell sighed, hanging her head in apparent defeat. "All right, fine. If you're really crazy enough to come here, then you might just be crazy enough to leave as well. And I gotta admit, I don't want anyone to get hurt. Especially kids. So, I'll tell you this: Pan needs your brother because he's looking for something; something only your brother can find."

"And what is this something, exactly? Gold? Treasure?"

"Oh, please," Tinker Bell gave a short laugh, shaking her head. "Pan has no need for gold or treasure on this island. But whatever it is, those pirates are looking for it, too. And trust me when I say this, you better hope Pan gets it first."

Mallory pursed her lips, taking this in. So both Flint and Pan were looking for the same thing. Perhaps the treasure Pan mentioned some time ago? Must be some fancy stuff it wasn't gold or jewels. Mallory wasn't the least bit surprised Pan thought Matthias could find it, what with the family gifts and all. "Well, I suppose that makes sense."

"Good. Hopefully it's enough to help you get off the island."

Then Tinker Bell said something that caught Mallory completely off guard: "Can I ask you a favor, Mallory? I know you have little reason to listen to anything I say, but…"

"What?" Mallory asked, curious. Since when did fairies ask humans for favors? Didn't she have magic? Mallory was positive her own non-magic-ness couldn't help here. What could she do that Tinker Bell couldn't? "What is it?"

"Pan is bringing another boy to Never Land," Tinker Bell said. "Another piece of his plan. But I'm worried what he might do, that he'll go too far and hurt the boy…you know how he is. I want you to protect him."

"Who? Pan?"

"No, the boy!" Tinker Bell rolled her eyes. Then she inhaled through her nose, as if calming herself, then added, "His name is Henry. It won't be too hard to pick him out when he shows up. Please, just promise me you won't let Pan do anything to hurt him."

Mallory considered it for a moment. What was this mysterious and ever-growing plan of Peter Pan's that required these boys and Flint's treasure? What was his endgame? "What's so special about this Henry? Does he have magic, too?"

"Of a sort," Tinker Bell said, glancing away and shrugging her shoulders. Mallory had the distinct feeling that the fairy wasn't telling her everything. "I-I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. All I know is that Henry is Pure of Heart; it's probably the reason why Pan needs him. Pure of Heart aren't easy to find, and Pan's been looking for this boy for a _very_ long time. Which is why _you_ need to be careful. The Pure of Heart are the easiest to break. And Pan certainly won't appreciate it if he catches you interfering with his plans."

"And how am I not supposed to get caught if I'm supposed to keep this Henry kid from harm?" Mallory asked, a little sarcastic. That biting teenage wit. "Pan is too smart."

But Tinker Bell just gave her a knowing smirk, as if she thought Mallory was being purposefully obtuse. "Then be _smarter_ , Mallory. I've seen what you're capable of, and I know that Peter underestimates you. Constantly. But I don't think I have to tell you _that_ , do I? You already know."

Well, she wasn't wrong. While Mallory had been through some hair-raising experiences so far, she was always rather underwhelmed by Pan's expectations of her. Could she use that to her advantage? "Well, I suppose I can try. I mean, if you're right about him…"

Tinker Bell smiled. "Oh, I'm always right about Peter."

Mallory blinked at her curiously. "Really? So, you're like his friend or something?"

"Oh, Peter doesn't have any friends," Tinker Bell just shook her head, chuckling under her breath. It was a dry laugh, though, filled with little humor. In fact, there was almost something sad to it. "He only has allies and followers. Well, that's not true — Peter had one friend, a real friend, a long time ago…but he was betrayed, and I don't think Peter wants to risk getting close to anyone else again."

"I don't think he even knows what real friendship is, anyways," Mallory muttered.

"I wouldn't be so callous as to say that," Tinker Bell replied, making a face. "No, no, I think Peter's just forgotten. Sometimes it hurts too much to try again, you know?"

"Yeah, well," Mallory didn't find Tinker Bell's defense of Pan very convincing. So Peter got betrayed by a friend; that didn't give him an excuse to act this way now. "If he can feel anything at all, that'd surprise me. How'd you even get him to trust you to begin with?"

"Well, now, _that's_ an interesting tale…" Tinker Bell started, but was interrupted by a loud bird call to the right, followed by a flurry of wingbeats and rustling leaves. The noise caught Mallory's attention, and she switched her head to watch the startled bird swoop into the canopy overhead, cawing.

When she looked back down at the tree nook, it was empty. Mallory jumped back in surprise, dropping her sword. Tinker Bell's had left without a sound, and once more Mallory wondered how people could do that. First Pan, now her? This was getting old.

Mallory had the distinct feeling that Tinker Bell had left to avoid answering her question, and just heaved a sigh. Well, she supposed she'd have to save learning Pan's past for another day.

Still, Tinker Bell's words echoed in her head. Pan had a friend once — a real friend? Not much of one, it seemed. How long could it have been since then for him to have forgotten what having a friend was like? Mallory didn't have many friends, but she suddenly found herself appreciating Cecily far more than she had before; Cecily had never betrayed her, never once even when it would've so easy, how lonely Mallory would have been without all those moments of her life that Cecily had filled with energy and fun — and in a moment of clarity, Mallory felt bad for Pan.

In fact, she pitied him. It must be a very sad life to live without friends.

Bending down, Mallory picked up the sword and peered back into the nook once more to check for fairies, before crawling inside. Curling up on the smooth floor, she rested her head on a pillow of moss and leaves and drifted off to dreams of faraway stars and a young boy's voice echoing in her head.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

 

When Mallory woke up that next morning, she had almost forgotten about her chat with Tinker Bell the previous night. But it all came rushing back to her as she descended the tree, to the camp below, and spotted a new face by the firepit.

Wrapped up in a red plaid jacket, the boy looked younger than her, maybe about twelve years old. He had round cheeks under a mop of brown hair, making him seem even younger to Mallory. There was a sweet naivete in his hazel eyes as he blinked around, taking in Never Land with a kind of wonder that didn’t exist on any other boy’s face. That’s how Mallory knew, right away, that this had to be Henry.

“Unbelievable,” Mallory said under her breath. The fairy had been right. Pan had brought someone new. But Pan himself was nowhere to be seen, so Mallory didn’t meander too long before walking towards the fire pit.

He looked up when she approached, eyes going wide with surprise. “I didn’t know there were Lost Girls in Never Land.”

Mallory, who hadn’t necessarily been planning on talking to Henry right away, fixed him with a look out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t sure if she could trust Henry. Pure of heart or not, if he had something to do with Pan’s great scheme, she had to be careful. Mallory had wanted to size him up first, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. “I’m not a Lost Girl.”

“Then why are you here?” The boy she presumed to be Henry asked. 

“I’m looking for my brother,” Mallory replied. Turning to face him fully, she tilted her head and asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Henry!” the boy said, and stuck out his arm, hand towards her. Mallory hesitated before shaking it. “Henry Mills. I’m from Storybrooke, Maine, but now I’m here. What’s your name?”

“I’m Mallory Farthing,” she said, shoulders relaxing a little once her suspicions were confirmed. She didn’t know Henry, but somehow she had this feeling that she could trust him. There was something innocent in his face, an honesty that she liked about him. “I’m from California. Storybrooke sounds even farther away than Never Land to me.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Henry said with a nod of his head, like he understood. “Magic works funny in Storybrooke. Wait, did you say California? I heard a famous actress lives there, her last name is Farthing, too.”

“Helena Farthing.” Mallory answered, with a certain lack of enthusiasm. Damn, she had forgotten how much she hated to be recognized like this. “I’m her daughter.”

“Wow!” Henry grinned. “Regina — my mom, I mean — loves her movies. It must be so cool to have a mom like yours!”

“Not really.”

Her tone was curt, and Henry’s face fell, perhaps sensing that the topic of Helena Farthing was not Mallory’s favorite. A little ashamed of herself for her lack of tact, Mallory shifted her gaze to the fire crackling before them. In an effort to change the subject, she said, “Henry, do you know why you’re here?”

She looked back to see Henry shrug helplessly. “Peter Pan took me. Or, well, some helpers of his did. They weren’t very smart, they didn’t even know who they were working for. They wanted to destroy Magic, but that didn’t work.”

“Right.” Mallory nodded slowly, frowning a little. She had never heard of Storybrooke, and Henry’s tale had taken a turn she hadn’t been expecting. There were people out there, in the real world, who wanted to destroy Magic? Mallory had no idea anyone else outside her own family even knew it was real to begin with. “What happened to them?”

“Not sure. I got away from them when we showed up on Neverland. Then Peter found me.” Henry replied, with a shrug that seemed to indicate he wasn’t taking this is seriously as Mallory thought he should. “I guess I’m important somehow. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t know how to leave.”

Mallory fixed him a quizzical look, dropping down to a crouch so they were eye-to-eye. “Aren’t you afraid?”

“No,” the boy chirped with a small smile, raising his chin confidently. “My family will know I’m missing, and they’ll come for me. My moms, they’ll find me. I just know they will.”

“Wow,” Mallory’s eyebrows shot up. She had to admit, she was impressed. It wasn’t just the boy’s confidence that struck her, but also the undying faith in his parents. “Wish I could say the same about my mother. But she doesn’t know I’m here. Or Mathias. That’s why I had to come, to take him back.”

“You came here on your own?” Henry looked awed. “Peter didn’t bring you?”

Mallory smirked. “Peter Pan doesn’t control everything, Henry.”

Henry blinked, then started to smile. He had just opened his mouth to say something, however, when another voice cut through the air.

“Well, well, well! Looks like Mallory’s made a new friend!” Pan’s voice was instantly recognizable to Mallory now, and she couldn’t help but cringe a little. Standing, her face was warm, and Mallory wondered why she felt guilty, as though she’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

She turned to face him; Pan towered over the Lost Boys, standing on top of his throne with his arms crossed and wearing that everlasting smirk. Mallory withheld the desire to punch him. Instead, she tilted her head and smiled, hands on her hips. “Why, yes, Pan, I did! Henry’s been nothing but a total gentleman.

“A gentleman?” Pan cocked an eyebrow, before hopping to the ground. He strutted over to Henry, who scrambled to his feet at Pan’s approach. “Well, that won’t do at all, will it? There are no gentlemen here on Never Land! Just pirates, scoundrels, and thieves!”

“And a girl,” he added as an afterthought, with a glance to Mallory. 

“Hmph,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

Back to Henry, Pan opened up his arms in challenge, beginning to walk around him. Henry turned on the spot, watching Pan as he said, “So, Henry, do you have what it takes to be a Lost Boy?”

“I-I think so,” Henry stuttered, tripping over his own shoe as Pan continued to circle him. Mallory wasn’t sure why Henry was going along with it, when he didn’t want to be here. Maybe he just wanted to fit in?

“You think so?” Pan repeated, and Mallory felt a muscle in her eye twitch. Over half the camp was watching them now, waiting to see what Pan would do next. Something was definitely up. “Well, I’m going to need a lot more than that, Henry. Not just anyone can be a Lost Boy, you know. Only the bravest, most loyal can join us. Are you brave, Henry?”

Henry stood a little taller, puffed up his chest. “Of course! All the best heroes have to be brave.”

“Did you hear that, boys?” Pan called out, as a few snickers spread through the camp. “This young lad thinks he’s a hero! Unfortunately,” Pan smiled, something cold and calculating as he looked back down at Henry. “There aren’t any heroes on Neverland, either.”

Mallory recognized what Pan was doing immediately. It was the same thing he did to her when she first arrived on the island. Walking in circles to confuse and intimidate. Intimidating her, testing her. Only Mallory was a big girl, she wasn’t so easily scared. Henry, on the other hand…

“What?” Henry asked, his enthusiasm starting to die a little, replaced by a much more familiar expression: fear. Exactly what Pan wanted. “Why aren’t there any heroes?”

“Because they don’t belong here, of course,” Pan replied. He was behind Henry at that point, and to emphasize his words, gave Henry a little push. Henry, not seeing it, stumbled forward, caught by surprise. “I have no patience for heroes or do-gooders — they ruin all the fun! Being good is so boring. You’re not boring, are you, Henry? Because the only way to have fun is to break the rules.”

“Um,” Henry said, his eyes casting down with uncertainty. He looked so small, and Pan nearly towered over him. And they were in the Lost Boy camp, surrounded by Pan’s minions, while Mallory had been alone on the beach with him. Pan had seemed a lot more manageable then, even after Mallory discovered who he was. Henry shrunk away whenever Pan got too close, hugging himself. It was clear that as kind and good-hearted Henry seemed to be, he had no defense to Pan’s cruelty. “I don’t think so. I know how to have fun. I broke the rules all the time at home.”

Mallory’s eyebrows shot up at that. This little kid, a troublemaker? No way. She’d seen kittens with more ferocity than Henry. 

Pan looked equally surprised — even shared a look with Mallory, as if to make sure this wasn’t just him. Then he turned back to Henry with a grin, “Well, that’s good to hear! What do you say, boys, you think Henry is up for a challenge? You can’t join the Lost Boys until you’ve proven your worth.”

A cheer went up in the camp, Lost Boys raising their fists in the air. It was like watching a bully --- or rather, a group of them --- push around younger kids on the playground. Pan knew he had all the power, all the fear to control and play with as he saw fit. Henry was just another boy in over his head. 

Pan’s grin only got bigger. He continued to circle Henry, hands behind his back. “What do you say, Henry? Ready for some fun?”

Henry, eyes flicking about the Lost Boys with growing apprehension, could only nod his head dumbly. When his eyes met Mallory’s, he almost certainly looked scared.

“The true measure of a Lost Boy should be revealed through a duel.” Pan asked to the camp at large. “Felix! A sword for our hero, if you please.”

The grim boy appeared out from the shadow of a tree right next to Mallory — it made her jump. How long had Felix been there? Had he been watching the whole time?

Felix, face hard as ever, pulled his sword from its sheath and tossed it to Pan, who caught it by the hilt. The sword, while perfectly sized for a teenaged boy like them, was far too big for Henry, who nearly dropped it when Pan handed it to him. He was still trying to get a hold of it as Pan stepped back. At first she thought the duel would be between Pan and Henry, but she would be sorely mistaken --- no, it was Felix who now stepped forward, standing in front of Henry with another sword in hand.

Pan was already retreating to his throne, the best seat in the house to watch the show. What was he thinking? Felix was even bigger than Pan, and almost twice as tall as Henry. Even an idiot could see it was an unfair match. It soon became clear to her that Pan was doing this for his own amusement, Henry an easy target for humiliation.

The Lost Boys, however, didn’t seem to care. They whooped and chanted, clearing back to make an empty ring around the two boys and the fire, giving them enough space to fight. Henry looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. 

“Well, Henry,” Pan said, he lounged in his seat, looking mighty pleased with himself at this arrangement. “I hope you know the rules to dueling.”

“N-not really,” Henry winced. Felix stepped back, falling into a ready position with his sword raised. 

Peter Pan smirked. “Then I guess you’ll just have to learn the hard way.” 

Forever on the receiving end of cruel jokes and the rumors of so-called friends, she was not about to let Pan get away with it. 

“Come on, Pan, leave him alone,” Mallory tried calling over the chanting and noise, but it was so loud they just drowned her out. Henry, the only one who could’ve seen her speak, seemed frozen, unable to move — the sword was too big for him, and he could barely lift it.

When Felix only advanced on Henry, Mallory lunged forward without thinking. Felix was closest to her, so her reaction was immediate, instinctual. Her hands slammed into his back --- with a sharp  _ oof! _ , Felix stumbled backwards, falling on face-first into the dirt. Henry gasped. 

Turning her glare on Pan, Mallory stepped forward and shouted, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

This time, her words rang through the clearing, catching everyone by surprise --- even Mallory herself, who’d just attacked a boy who was much bigger than her. The Lost Boys directly next to her suddenly jumped back, startled. Mallory herself was a little surprised by her own strength, fueled by her anger. A raucous call of ‘ _ Oooo!’ _ Rose up from the Lost Boys, impressed by Mallory’s underhanded blow. Felix certainly looked the fool, having been caught off guard.

Felix, silent as ever, was already getting up and looking downright murderous, reaching for his fallen sword, as if he intended to attack Mallory. But he hadn’t even stood when Pan raised a hand, calling him to a halt, and saving Mallory a breath of relief. If Pan wasn’t there, she was sure Felix would’ve slit her throat.

But the dark, inquisitive look in Pan’s eyes made her forget Felix instantly, as the King of Neverland stepped down from his throne to stand in the center of the clearing, between Mallory and Felix. He tilted his head at her, waiting for the Lost Boys to quiet before saying, “And who would that be, Mallory?  _ You _ ?”

Mallory swallowed. This was her trump card; she knew Pan well enough that he couldn’t resist a challenge, especially in front of an audience. Of course, that meant putting her own life on the line. But Pan wasn’t focused on Henry anymore, and that was exactly what she needed.

Sometimes, Pan could be predictable — a fact that almost made her smile. “At least I can fight back.”

Another chorus of “Ooo”s, and Pan’s smirked, shoulders going slack as though he were unafraid of the threat. But Mallory noticed the way his eyes narrowed, disliking her unrelenting defiance. Well, he was sure in for something, wasn’t he?

“Well, well,” he drawled, glancing at Felix over his shoulder, holding out his hand. “Looks like Mallory knows how to have some fun, too. What do you say, boys? Should I accept this challenge?”

Mallory already knew he had, but at the approving cheer of the Lost Boys, there was no backing out of it now, for either of them. 

Felix handed him his sword, and Mallory quickly stepped back. She was suddenly very aware of her own saber in her grip, her palm starting to get a little clammy. Mallory couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a sword fight — her last fencing class had been months ago, and they certainly weren’t as carefree about the rules as Pan was.

Before he could do anything else, she said, “And what are the terms?”

Peter squinted at her, testing the sword in his hand. “Terms?”

“Yeah, you know, the terms,” Mallory said, shrugging her shoulders. “You can’t have a duel without terms. Whoever wins, gets something they want. And the loser has to pay. Every good duel has them. It’s what makes it exciting.”

Pan ruminated on this for a second, but finally nodded, convinced. “All right, sure. And what are  _ your _ terms, Mallory?”

She already knew what she wanted. “If I win, you tell me where my brother is.”

Almost instantly, she wondered if that was the right thing to say. Maybe Mallory should have asked for something else — that Pan plays fair, that he stops picking on Henry. But what good would that do? Just show Pan that Henry is a weak spot for her? That she has a sudden strange interest in the boy? She didn’t want to give away to Pan that she was onto his secret scheme. Pan already knew Mallory was here for her brother; might as well play on that. Mallory could protect Henry on her own.

Pan smiled, apparently expecting that response. “Fine. But if I win, you have to give me something important.”

“Like what?” Mallory gripped her sword a little tighter. She didn’t have much to give in the first place — she certainly didn’t want to hand over her only weapon to Pan.

“I don’t know,” Pan shrugged with an air of nonchalance. So he didn’t want her sword, he just wanted to make Mallory’s life a pain. “Something special, something that means something important to you.”

“I don’t really have anything like that.” Mallory said, which was more or less the truth. Or so she thought.

Pan smiled a little, tilting his head as if doubting her. “Are you sure about that, Malzipan? Surely there’s something you can’t bear to part with, something you’d only give to someone very special to you. And maybe not even then. What do you say, boys? What’s something special Mallory can give me?”

There were a number of suggestions that were called out — mostly ones Mallory expected, like her sword. But it was one voice in particular that stood out, that caught her by surprise.

“How about a kiss?” Henry offered, his voice frighteningly clear.

Mallory shot him an astounded look. “WHAT.”

Pan laughed, and Henry only offered a helpless shrug. “What? My mom says kisses are special. A kiss of true love can break any spell.”

“Excellent idea, Henry!” Peter Pan crowed, looking especially pleased — although that might be because he saw Mallory's expression and reacted accordingly. 

While another roar of approval went up, Mallory turned to Henry and hissed, “What are you thinking? I don’t have a kiss of true love! Especially not for  _ him _ !”

“Sorry!” Henry winced, throwing up his hands. “It just popped into my head. I didn’t think Pan would take it seriously.”

Indeed, Pan was not. As he soaked in the Lost Boys’ glee, Mallory could tell the ‘true love’ part wasn’t the kicker for him. No, he just knew that a kiss disgusted her, and wanted it just to spite her. 

“Well, I consider the terms agreeable,” Pan said, bringing Mallory’s attention back to him. “What say you, Mallory?”

“Fine,” she muttered, falling back into a ready stance. This was not what she wanted, but she doubted she could convince Pan to change his terms. Unfortunately, even a kiss wasn’t as bad as losing her sword, the only other thing she had to offer, and something Pan might not even accept. Mallory wasn’t going to give him the extra bait, either, by asking. All she added was, “The duel ends at first blood.”

It was almost impressive, how quickly the tables had turned. Henry had initially came across as a little naive — Mallory had underestimated just how much. The things she did to protect one dumb kid.

“Agreed,” Pan said, reveling in the glare she fixed on him. That stupid smirk, those glittering eyes. Mallory wasn’t even worried about her own prowess anymore. All she wanted was to kick his ass. “

They stood there, opposing each other with stoic expressions, for one long second. The Lost Boys quieted, eyes wide as they waited. Felix stood there in the background, still looking like he wanted to kill Mallory. Henry was just out of her field of vision, trembling.

Then Pan struck forward.

Mallory stepped back, bringing up her blade to block his. She jerked her arm, shoving his sword aside, but Peter lunged again. 

She dodged, and as Pan advanced, she twisted on the spot, keeping Pan in front of her. Mallory brought up her sword just as his stabbed forward. Metal clanged against metal as their blades met between them. Both Pan and Mallory froze for a moment, now standing in reverse positions from where they started.

Pan was grinning. “You never told me you could swordfight.”

“You never asked,” Mallory shot back, then swung at him. 

Her blow forced Pan to step back, barely able to parry her. He swung around, slashing again — his sword was of the classical type, symmetrical and double-edged, the kind a knight may wield, while Mallory’s was a saber, a pirate’s weapon, with a single sharp edge and slightly curved blade. Peter’s could be held with two hands. Her’s could not. Already she could feel that he was stronger than her, able to put more force behind his blows than she could.

But Mallory wasn’t defenseless. Her muscle memory proved reliable --- fencing was also one-handed, and Mallory was used to much quicker, much sharper blows with smaller blades. Pan, with his larger sword, felt so slow in comparison. As they traded blows, Pan’s movements seemed almost telegraphed. She could see where his blows would land before he made them.

Her ankle was a problem. As was her wrist. But Mallory held her sword in her other hand, made sure that Pan never got too close to hitting either. It hurt, certainly, but at this point she was so worked up it wasn’t registering anymore. 

Their blades flashed in the warm firelight, red hot and burning yellow. Pan kept swiping for her legs, her arms, but Mallory was too quick, stepping back, ducking out of the way for blows too powerful for her to block. 

Her own strikes were fueled by her incredible desire — not to lose, above all else. Mallory almost didn’t care about finding her brother, so long as she didn’t end up kissing Pan.

Then the edge of his sword slipped a little too close to her cheek. Mallory gasped, whipped her head back just in time. She reminded herself not to be so petty — acting like this was exactly what Pan wanted. She couldn’t let him get on her nerves, distract her from her true purpose here in Neverland.

Forward strike. Backhand block. Side thrust. Swipe and parry. Mallory was always moving, always on her toes — so unlike fencing, in which matches were over in seconds, in which duelists slipped forward back by only inches. Fighting Pan was a whole ‘nother game. It was a real duel. 

Mallory hadn’t necessarily quit fencing so much as she sort of lost interest in it. After winning a championship and getting absolutely no recognition for it from her mother, who didn’t even attend the event, Mallory realized that her entire reason to learn how to fence had been for nothing. It didn’t matter that she was good at a unique sport, it didn’t matter that she had accolades that Matthias did not. It wouldn’t make up for the fact that she still wasn’t like them. Nothing could ever make up for it.

And it wasn’t just fencing, either. Mallory had tried other things, equally as impressive or difficult. Equestrian, chess club, debate, sailing — although a little high-brow and filled with other rich kids who didn’t all take it as seriously as Mallory, all had their challenges to overcome. All were competitive in some way or another. Mallory liked that, surprisingly, the competition. But it was never the reasons she joined up to begin with.

And she hated herself for it. As she tried to catch Pan’s shoulder, Mallory thought of all the things she did to make her mother proud of her. That just because Mallory didn’t have Magic, she was somehow less.

But it never worked. After a while, Mallory grew fed up with each activity --- each seemed so pointless. She never really made friends because it had never occurred to her to make some, she had been so focused on her end goal. The only friend she had, Felicity, had almost been an accident. Mallory accidentally went to a theater group in the park when she meant to meet her track team. Felicity had been friendly, made Mallory appreciate the art of acting for a little bit.

“Damn, Mallory,” Pan grunted, when she slammed blades together so hard they sparked and vibrated. Pan had to stumble back to avoid her blade slipping and cutting him. “Where’s all this anger coming from? Something eating at you?”

And with that, he slid past her, his foot hooking around her ankle. Before Mallory could react, Pan jerked her leg out from underneath her, and she went down hard on her stomach. Mallory let out a grunt, before quickly rolling over - and just in in time, too, before Pan could stab her shoulder.

He swung his blade down again, and Mallory brought hers up, bringing it horizontally across her chest before he hit her. The blade came inches to her chin, just over her neck. 

“Shut up,” she snapped, before swiping her leg. Pan, who had been standing over her, went down with a yelp.

And now she was here, in Neverland, fighting a boy from a fairy tale. All in the hopes of finding her brother. All in the hopes of finally,  _ finally _ getting her mother’s approval. 

Mallory was back on her feet in an instant — but so was Peter, who perhaps sensed history repeating itself and wasn’t going to let her return the favor. They faced off each other again, now covered in dirt and panting. Pan was starting to look annoyed now. Maybe he didn’t expect them to be so evenly matched; a far cry from the earlier match between Felix and Henry.

The Lost Boys, however, were loving it. Every once and awhile Mallory caught a glimpse of Barnaby-Twigs in the corner of her eye, watching with a rapt expression, jaw hanging open. It was hard to say whose side anyone was on, although Mallory could bet at least most of them were on Pan’s side.

And yet more than a few seemed pleased whenever Mallory got a little too close, when Pan made the occasional slip. Felix was just on the edge of the circle, ready to step in at any moment, in case Mallory crossed the line.

Pan struck again.

_ Clash _ . Mallory flinched, bringing up her blade just in time. But her hand was sweaty from exertion, exhaustion. The saber twisted in her hand. Pan’s blade swept over the hilt and across her hand.

A hiss went up her throat as she felt the hot pain as the blade cut through her skin. Malloy grit her teeth, clenched her grip, and wrenched her saber up and around, flipping around Pan’s blade.

With a collective gasp, the Lost Boy’s watched as the sword was flung from Pan’s grip. Mallory had disarmed him. She raised her blade at him.

Pan stepped back, hands raised, but not in surrender. Half of his face was covered in dirt. There was a bruise where he’d fallen, but not bad enough to end the fight. He smiled, held up one finger as Mallory drew close. “Ah, ah, Mallory. Your hand.”

She clenched her jaw. Mallory already knew about her hand. She could see it in front of her, holding Pan at the end of her blade. She’d lost, fair and square.

That was probably the worst part. Had Pan cheated, then at least Mallory would feel vindication. She wouldn’t have to agree to their terms, since Pan had already proven his dishonor. But that hadn’t happened. No, Mallory lost because she slipped up. 

With a huff, she dropped the saber. The tip drew a line in the dirt. Her voice was low, words reluctant. “Congratulations, Pan. You win.”

Pan threw up his arms as the Lost Boys roared. She despised that triumphant look on his face. “Well, deal’s a deal, Mallory. Now where’s my kiss?”

Just those words. Mallory closed her eyes, summoning every ounce of strength, of patience within her. Pan’s attitude, that expectation, entitlement — she hated it. And yet she knew she’d be just like that, if she won; demanding answers that had been held from her for too long. If only she had been a little faster.

“Come on, Mallory, those were the terms,” Pan chided, knowing without asking that Mallory was already having second thoughts. 

“I know,” she said under her breath. Of course, what made it worse was the fact that everyone was watching her. The Lost Boys had gone quiet again. It took Mallory to notice their expressions — not expectant, as Pan was, but almost a sort of wariness. Then she remembered: most of them were young, preteens. She still remembered how they first welcomed her here. A kiss would be about as well received.

She wondered, for a moment, what Pan thought of it. As Mallory stepped forward, each foot feeling like lead, she wondered what it would mean for Pan. Because Mallory had never kissed someone before. True Love kisses were special — but so were, in a way, first kisses, too. At least, they were to Mallory. 

Of course, Pan had no idea. And she wasn’t going to tell him.

Coming to a stop just in front of him, Mallory fixed Pan with a cold look. And then, before she could overthink it, leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek.

A Lost Boy gagged. Mallory was already stepping back, trying to suppress the rising heat in her cheeks. But Pan grabbed her arm as she started to turn away. "Oh, come on. I deserve a little more than that!"

Mallory paused, looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose. "Then you should've fought better."

The Lost Boys exploded with a chorus of "Oooh!" and "Buuuuuurn!" and one particular "Damn, son!" While Peter was so taken aback that he did nothing when Mallory wrenched her arm out of his grip.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” she said, using her saber to lean again. “I’m going to sit down and hope I didn’t make my ankle even worse, dealing with you.”

Pan stared at her, smile gone. That dangerous flash in his eyes again — gone the next moment as he tossed his head and gave a derisive snort. “Girls,” He declared to his Lost Boys. “Completely irrational creatures.”

Mallory just threw him a dirty look, but Pan was already walking away.

And then everything was back to normal. The Lost Boys went back to their various tasks, as if they hadn’t just watched some tense duel and a kiss and some traded barbs. Pan had disappeared, perhaps to nurse his bruised ego. Henry was already back to sitting on his log, staring into the fire. Mallory, not really knowing what else to do with herself, sat down next to him.

She stared into the fire. Somehow, it wasn’t as bad as she thought. Sure, her hand hurt, but Mallory found herself not as mad about losing as she thought. Pan’s terms hadn’t been bad, considering her interpretation of them. She just wished she won. That she had gotten something more meaningful out of it.

“Thanks, by the way,” Henry’s voice broke through her thoughts, and Mallory cast him a surprised look. Henry smiled at her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Mallory snorted, looked back into the fire. “Yeah, I did. Pan shouldn’t treat people like that.”

“Well, no one else did what you did, Mallory,” Henry pointed out. “You reminded me of my mom, actually. Emma. She’d do what you do.”

“I thought her name was Regina.”

“I have two moms,” Henry explained. “Regina used to be the Evil Queen, but she’s better now. Emma’s the hero, she stands up for everyone. She’s the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, and also has the kiss of true love, that broke the spell in Storybrooke and restored everyone’s memories of the Enchanted Forest. She has a magic more powerful than anyone's ever seen before. Even more powerful than Rumpelstiltskin’s!”

Mallory stared at him for a long moment. “You say some really weird things, you know that, right?”

Henry looked a little affronted. “What? It’s the truth! Emma really did that. She’s the Chosen One!”

“Sure, kid, sure,” Mallory laughed, deciding not to argue the point. She had no idea what fairy tales Henry believed in, but they seemed to give him hope, and Mallory didn’t want to compromise that. “Emma’s the Chosen One and she’s, what, gonna come here and save you?”

“Yep!” Henry said with a confident nod of his head. “Just you wait. They’ll be here any day now. Hey, maybe we can take you home, too.”

That actually wasn’t a bad idea. “Sure, Henry. But, hey, can you do me a favor? Can you keep an eye out for my brother, Matthias?”

“Yeah, sure,” Henry said. The fire turned his face a funny shade of orange, turning his pupils gold. He certainly looked like a kid who’d believe in Magic. “What does he look like?”

“He’s tall, blond, has blue eyes,” Mallory explained, pointing to her face. “Looks a little bit like me, with freckles. But he’s older, twenty-one. He’s here because of Pan.”

“Twenty-one?” Henry repeated, somewhat doubtful. He glanced around the camp, frowning. “I don’t think there’s anyone here that old, Mallory. Are you sure he’s here?”

“Positive,” Mallory said, then sighed. She knew it would be a long shot. “Just keep an eye out, okay? I’m not sure where Pan is keeping him, but I know he’s hiding him from me. If you see anything, let me know.”

“I promise,” Henry said with such fervor that Mallory found it adorable. “Peter’s wrong, you know. There’s heroes on Neverland.”

“Really?” Mallory threw him a funny look. “Who?”

“You, of course!” Henry said, punching her lightly on the arm, as if Mallory were playing dumb.

“Me? Pfft,” Mallory just shook her head with a short laugh. “No way, I’m no hero. I’m just trying to find Matty and go home. That’s it.”

“You’d be surprised,” Henry said, bowing his head a little to whisper with a conspiratorial smile. “But I think that’s exactly what a hero would say.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Mallory laughed, pushing Henry away jokingly. He was just making fun of her now. Acting like she was one of those characters from the Enchanted Forest or whatever. It took a lot more than a stupid decision and a sword to make someone a hero. And Mallory, of all people? Please. 

 

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NGL, totally imagined the 'He's a Pirate' song from the POTC movies playing during Pan and Mallory's fight.


End file.
